


Becoming Free

by poohsweatervest



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Cutting, Depression, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:06:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 45,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poohsweatervest/pseuds/poohsweatervest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gavin can’t seem to shake this depression. It’s been following him around like a shadow for years and on multiple occasions, he’s tried to end his life because of it. It wasn't until he met a certain dork that things started changing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Free

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so the rating, characters, pairings, and tags will be updated as the fic goes on. So far I have very little planned which is the reason for the lack of tags. This fic is posted on my tumblr as well here: http://poohmandu.tumblr.com/post/66937455481/becoming-free-1 and will be updated there first. I hope you enjoy!

 Attempt number three. How did it come down to that? Everyone always said, “Third time's the charm,” but after the events of that evening had played out, I was doubtful as ever.

The first time, I simply jumped in front of a car. It was a white Taurus driven by some grouchy old man. I remember waking up with lights flashing all around me. My shirt was wet and, at the time, I didn't realize that it was soaked in my own blood. The old man was hovering over me along with paramedics and police officers, trying to keep the old man under control. “He jumped out in front of my car!” He shouted as three men tried with all of their might to hold him back. “If he ain't dead, I'll kill him!” I ended up winning the case when the man decided to get violet and punch a cop in the face. I remember him nearly pulling me off the stretcher as I was being loaded into the back of an ambulance, and to this day, I wish he would have been successful. The doctors told me for weeks that I was very lucky to be alive and that if I'd been thrown one more foot by the car, I wouldn't be breathing. I left the hospital in a neck brace and a pair of crutches. I hadn't even suffered any brain damage, which didn't make a lick of sense. Most of the blood that was on my shirt had came from the cut on my forehead which masked a fractured skull. I ruined my favorite shirt. I wish that man would have smashed my face in.

The second time was a little different. I didn't go for anything that could be controlled by an outside variable. I needed the paramedics to stay at bay. I needed something that wouldn't be immediately called in, in case it failed like the first time. I decided on hanging myself. I set up the rope and strung it from an exposed beam across a doorway in my home that I never had the energy to fix. Again, I woke up surrounded by paramedics. Apparently the beam above my doorway had broken and knocked me unconscious. My neighbors in the apartment below mine heard a thud and were concerned. They rushed upstairs and found my door unlocked and barged in. I was sprawled on the floor with the rope still around my neck. They called an ambulance and they came right away. After that, I was evicted from my apartment for causing structural damage and being a disturbance to those around me. The building manager tried to sue me for the damage I'd caused and I ended up getting out of it, so long as I left immediately and was placed in therapy for “mental instability.”

That really irked me. I wasn't mentally unstable, I was seriously depressed and didn't want to live anymore. Maybe my depression caused something in my brain to become chemically unbalanced. I didn't want to do much research on it because I simply didn't care. All I cared about was dying. I couldn't get on with that since the therapy was court mandated. The counselor was nice and easy to talk to, but aren't all counselors supposed to be? They ended up writing me a prescription for some high-end anti-depressants just as my mandatory forty days were up. I apologized to them that I wouldn't be coming back on my own free will. They understood completely and asked if any of the therapy helped me. Again, I apologized, and left as quickly as I could.

I caught a bus to the nearest pharmacy, though I had no intention of taking the pills. Taking the little yellow bottle home with me I thought of what I could possibly use them for. I almost tossed them into the garbage until I caught sight of the label. “Free, Gavin D. Anti-depressant. Take twice daily with a meal.” For some reason, seeing my name on that bottle made everything seem so real. I was depressed. I didn't know why and I didn't want to know why and that was that. I stuck the bottle in my medicine cabinet and let it be for a good month until I reopened that mirror door in my bathroom of my new apartment.

I reached in for something different, something sharper. As I grabbed hold of the box cutter I'd been stashing for a special occasion, the pill bottle came falling out, clanging into the sink. I looked down with instrument in hand and saw my name staring back up at me.

Free, Gavin D.

I couldn't control the laughter that poured from my throat. The loud, high pitched sound was echoing through the empty room and escaped into the hallway. It seemed like my fit was filling the entire flat. It kept overflowing from my mouth and spilling into the air around me and I didn't stop until I felt something more solid than a laugh spill down my arm and into the sink onto the pill bottle. I moved that quickly and assessed the situation with my arm. It started to sting. I had carved a line directly into my flesh with the blade and it was exactly what I had entered the bathroom to do. I thought it over a bit and smiled menacingly, deciding on how I would end it.

“Well, Mr. Gavin David Free,” I spoke to myself. “What have we got here? Another mingey attempt to end your life? Better be successful! Wouldn't want the people to find you this time. This would be an embarrassing thing to recover from.” The blade dug in deeper as I made a second line perpendicular to the first and another parallel to that one. I bit my lip at the pain. “Shhhhh,” I continued on, as if I were outside of my own body, watching someone else do it to me. “Mr. Free, free of life. That's the way you want to go?” I shook my own head in acknowledgment and continued slicing and laughing until blood was beginning to fill the sink. My head was starting to spin and I felt sick to my stomach, but I held up my right forearm with a satisfied feeling filling my chest.

Before me was the word “FREE” dripping blood. I fell to the floor, legs unable to hold my wobbling body any longer. “Be free, you little twat,” were the last words that left my mouth before everything faded to black.

I woke up some hours later on the floor of my tiled bathroom, half of my face crusted with dried blood. I was laying in a puddle of it. The sun shown in through the small window above my shower and reflected off the mirror, making it hard to focus on the room before me. I had made a mess. I sat up, still very light headed and ran a hand through my greasy hair. I let out a heavy sigh and reached into my pocket for the pack of cigarettes I'd bought the night before. I always thought smoking was nasty, but I didn't give a rat's ass anymore. I'd failed for a third time and I had the giant cuts to prove it.

I lit up a cigarette with a match from my back pocket. The building was a non smoking facility but, again, I didn't really care. I stood up and took a drag. I cleaned off the floor, the sink, the mirror, and myself of all the blood I'd lost. I had to have been out for at least twelve hours and I added an extra two when I looked at the time on my phone. It was mid day and I was starving.

Looking at my reflection one last time in the mirror, I decided that I was clean enough to walk to the store and buy some bandages and maybe a sandwich on the way back. Before I turned out the light and put out my cigarette in a tray I had perched on the top of the toilet, I caught glimpse of the yellow pill bottle on the edge of the sink's soap dish. “Free, D. Gavin,” I muttered to myself, popping the cap off for the first time and swallowed a pill whole. “Free my arse.”

With that I shut off the light and shrugged a jacket over my shoulders. I headed for the door and made my way out into another day.


	2. New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to joelwhatsupman [on tumblr] (wow I just realized how funny your url is) b/c I'm a jerk and you're great and ilu <3\. This chapter is just kind of a filler leading up to the next one which, I know, is really boring at the beginning of a fic but I introduced some characters and some other things that will be important later. (tumblr link: http://poohmandu.tumblr.com/post/67016945804/becoming-free-2)

 When I hit the sidewalk, I felt the sting of my cuts kick in. It may have been the air of the busy streets or the change in temperature, but it made me flinch. I held up my arm in front of me as if I were going to examine it and realized that my coat sleeve was cloaking it. I tried to make a fist and it was nearly impossible. I may have suffered some kind of nerve damage, but it didn't really cause any concern to rise in my mind.

I continued walking down the sidewalk, hardly paying attention to my surroundings but knowing my ultimate destination as the convenience store just around the corner. I heard my ring tone from my pants pocket as I rounded the corner. Reaching into my right pocket was a task; the appropriate hand wouldn't cooperate and I had to reach across myself with my left hand to even be able to access it. I was able to get the phone to my ear by the time I walked through the doors.

“Hello?” I answered and waited for the voice on the other side.

“Gavin! How are you?” her voice was soft and smooth like always.

“Hey, Barb. I'm doing alright. What's up?” I grabbed a basket from the front of the store with my free hand, having trouble gripping the handle.

“I was just calling to see if we were still on for tonight?”

I'd completely forgotten about the plans I'd made with her. “Uh, sure,” I panicked, trying to remember what it was exactly we were planning on. I didn't expect to be alive for the event, so it must have slipped my mind.

“You don't remember, do you?” Her voice chimed in, a bit irritated. I walked down one of the isles and decided that I wouldn't be able to hold the basket with my right hand. I pushed my shoulder to the back of my phone and pivoted the basket to my good arm.

“Sorry, Babs, I don't have the slightest idea.” I searched the shelves until I found the bandages and the hydrogen peroxide to clean out the cuts.

“The midnight release? You're gonna help me work it then we're going to the club.”

I sighed. “I don't really want to go to the club tonight.”

“That's what you said when I asked you that part the first time.” I walked towards the cotton swabs and threw those in with the other items I had collected. “It's just something to lift your spirits, Gav. I know you've been upset lately-”

A laugh escaped my mouth and interrupted her. “Upset is an understatement.”

“Well, maybe we can change that? I just want to help you, and since you refuse to take your meds-”

“I took one this morning.” I vaguely recalled popping one into my mouth before I walked out the door. I couldn't think of what possessed me to suddenly comply with the directions after a month of protesting. Did something change in me? Maybe I'd simply given up the will to end my life?

“Really?” She sounded shocked. I'd been so adamant about not taking them – stating that they would do no good and it didn't matter. The reason why I didn't want to take them was because I was dead set on dying. Apparently fate had different plans for me around that same time.

“Yeah,” I pondered. “I guess I did.”

“Well... good! Everyone's gotta start somewhere! So let's go out and celebrate tonight after the release with some partying.”

I tried to grasp for another excuse to flake. “I don't think I'm supposed to drink when I take these.” I pulled a random bottle of pain reliever off the shelf and shook it by my phone to make it sound like I had my medication in hand. Barbara was the only person I talked to about my depression and most of it was because she forced it out of me. She had good intentions, but I wished that I could keep it from her. She'd been ten times more worried about me after I'd gotten out of therapy and she forced me to confide in her.

I forgot about my loose grip and the pills flew out of my hand, almost knocking an employee in the head.

“You don't have to drink. Just,” she paused. The clerk glared at me and handed the thrown bottle back. I mouthed the word 'sorry' to him just before he walked off. “Please don't make me go alone.”

“Did you not invite anyone else?” I asked her as I placed the bottle back on the shelf.

“I tried to get Arryn and Kara to come but...” She let it trail off and I knew how she wanted to finish the sentence.

“But I'm no fun and Arryn and Kara don't like hanging out with the depressed kid.”

“Gav, you know they love you.”

“I don't really care if they do or not. It's a perfectly good reason to ditch me.”

“Stop getting down on yourself.”

I approached the food section of the store and grabbed a turkey sub and a water bottle. “I'm not getting down on myself. I just know it's true.”

“Fine, okay. Whatever. Just, be at Game Stop at like, 10:45?”

“Sounds fine.” I approached the counter as we ended the call and the cashier rang out my items.

I ate my sub on the way back to my apartment building. I had to hold the sandwich with my left hand, which felt very abnormal. I was afraid that if I tried to use my other hand, I'd end up throwing seven dollars on the ground, much like the incident with the pills in the store. By the time I reached the front door, I'd finished eating and discarded the wrapper in a nearby trash can. The front desk woman saw me and pressed the button to unlock the door and let me in. The day shift woman was a red head with a fiery personality.

“Afternoon, Gavin!” She called out as I pushed open the door.

“Hey, Lindsay.” We were on a first name basis after the third time I saw her. There was something about her that compelled me to talk to her. Very few people had that effect on me anymore. “Anything new?”

“Not much. How's the cat?”

I hadn't seen her in a while, mostly because I didn't leave my apartment much during the day. She didn't know about the situation with my cat. “She ran away about a month ago, actually.”

“Oh no! Poor Lloyd.”

“I'm sure she's happy eating out of garbage cans somewhere.” Lindsay loved to stop by after her shifts if she'd seen me earlier in the day and play with my cat, Lloyd. Unfortunately, I'd left the window open one night and she'd gotten out. Normally when that happened she'd come running back after a few hours but she hadn't been looking too well a couple days before. My guess was that she ran off to die in peace. I wish I could be as lucky.

“Maybe she'll come back?”

“Eh,” I opened the door to the elevator and stepped inside. “I wouldn't count on it. See you later.” I pressed the button for the second floor.

“See ya!”

I always left my complex through a back exit. It wasn't supposed to be used as that, but since the alarm had malfunctioned and no one had bothered to fix it yet, it served as an easy exit to the street on the other side of the building. Directly out my window was a fire escape that I often sat on when it was a nice evening. I liked to soak up the sounds of the city around me. It was one of the few things that I enjoyed. I climbed out the window and sat down, lighting up a cigarette and cleaning my cuts. It was a really stupid thing to do because it was quite windy and I almost lost the bandages, but it was nice to listen to the traffic and people laughing and having conversations. It reminded me that the world was still moving.


	3. Heavy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this may be the longest chapter that I've ever written. This fic is gonna be full of them. I hope this isn't boring I feel like it's boring but here's another chapter (tumblr: http://poohmandu.tumblr.com/post/67035718003/becoming-free-3)

 I showed up at Game Stop at about 10:50. I was five minutes late, but the buses didn't run at the exact time. The line was already starting to form around the stand-alone building. I saw Barbara on the inside behind the counter, telling two others what to do. I approached the door and the people in line started to heckle me. “If you want GTA V so bad, you're gonna have to wait like the rest of us!”

I chuckled and waved to Barbara. She caught sight of me and smiled, crossing the room quickly to unlock the door to let me in. I gave one last look at the line and entered the building as the door was relocked behind me.

The two other guys at the counter were unfamiliar. I approached them and was thrown a shirt with the Game Stop logo across the front. “Put it on,” The dark haired boy with glasses said. “Those ass holes will flip shit if you don't.” He smiled at me and I took off my jacket.

“Oh my god, Gavin, what happened to your arm?” Barbara almost screamed as she saw my bandaged forearm. I looked down, nearly forgetting about it.

“Oh, I was, uh,” I quickly tried to come up with an excuse. Barb didn't need to know about what actually happened. “Cooking bacon. My hand slipped and I got the grease on me. I'm fine though.”

“Do you need me to look at it?” She walked over to me and put a hand over the bandages. I pulled my arm away quickly and shrugged the Game Stop shirt on.

“I said I'm fine, Babs.”

“Okay,” she said in an uncertain voice. She turned to the other two. “This is Ray,” She motioned to the dark-haired boy with glasses then motion to the shorter boy with longer blonde hair. “And this is Kerry.”

“I'm Gavin,” I introduced myself. I thought about putting back on my jacket to hide my bandages, but decided against it.

We all said hello and Ray gave us instructions on what to do. I was given the task of going through the line and making sure everyone had a photo ID ready to pick up the game. Some were forgotten in cars and I held places for those who had to run back to get them. Once it neared midnight, the mass of people were allowed to enter the building, splitting off into two separate lines. The line on the right was for those who had paid for the game in full and the line on the left was for those that still had money left to pay. Both led up to the counter where I returned to begin handing out the copies of the game once it hit midnight. It took about an hour to get through all of the people. There were several Game Stops in the area and all of them were having midnight releases, knowing that it was going to be a big event. Especially around a college campus.

Once we'd wrapped up the shop, it was rounding 1:30. “Did you guys want to come to the club with us?” Barbara asked Ray and Kerry.

“Um,” Kerry chuckled. “I'm 19.”

“Yeah, and I don't drink,” Ray chimed in.

“Well,” Barbara said, ruffling her hands through each boys hair. “More for us then, right Gav?”

“Sure,” I managed a smile.

We said our good byes and walked to Barbara's car. The drive was short and silent. Barb didn't like to talk in the car much, nor did I have much to talk about. We parked on a street a couple over from the club we were going to. We only had to stand in line for about fifteen minutes and were in the doors by two. It was one of Barb's favorite clubs. She loved the music they played which wasn't the typical trance music. It was more of an alternative rock, but with a poppy feel. It was fairly easy to dance to, which is exactly what I did after Barb had her second shot and she pulled me to the floor. After a few songs, I was replaced by a stranger, dancing by her side. I returned to my seat in one of the booth seats at the side of the dance floor.

I looked over the crowd. Just a bunch of college kids that were barely legal getting drunk off their asses, looking to go home with someone they didn't know. I found the concept to be rather stupid. Of course, I was once a college kid. I dropped out when I couldn't handle it anymore. I wanted to get drunk but something was stopping me. It wasn't the depression medication I'd taken earlier that day because I couldn't care less what reaction I'd have to having both. In fact, I almost ordered the strongest thing on the menu by the off chance that it might kill me in combination with the meds. But I couldn't bring myself to. Something was stopping me and I didn't understand what. Nothing within myself had ever stopped me from being self-destructive before.

I shook my head as if I was shaking the thoughts out of me and looked over the crowd again. I had no desire to go home with anyone in the club either. I hadn't had that desire in a long time. I felt no need for sex, no need for physical contact. It just seemed so unnecessary.

“Why are you sitting all by yourself?” I heard a voice come from behind me. I look over the seat and am met with something I didn't expect. I saw a pale man with auburn curls falling just above a pair of black glasses. He was smiling and his dimples were pronounced, decorated by freckles. He had his hand resting on the seat behind my shoulder. I followed his muscular – but thin – arms up, and found multiple tattoos, most seemed to be dealing with video games of some kind. I recognized them to be Legend of Zelda characters after a few seconds. He laughed at the prolonged silence. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Uh-” I didn't have a chance to start a sentence before he'd sat down across from me. I looked at his face again, noticing how square his jaw seemed to be.

“It's pretty fucking hot in here,” He stated. He crossed his arms over the table and leaned in. “A little hot to be wearing that jacket, don't you think?”

I looked down at myself and realized that I was indeed still wearing my jacket. “It's not so bad.”

“You've got to be shitting me.” He leaned back putting his hands behind his head. A toothy smile crossed his face. “Don't pull my leg with that fake fucking British accent.”

I raised my eyebrows a bit confused. “I'm sorry?” I asked, thinking over his statement.

“Come on,” he held out a hand, signaling to the dance floor behind him. “College bar with that accent. What kind of chicks are you trying to pick up? Fake accents hardly ever fucking work. Although,” he returned his hand to the other behind his head. “It is pretty hot.”

I felt my cheeks grow warm. _My accent was hot?_ I didn't know what to say and instead of saying anything, I let a smile form in the corner of my mouth. It slowly turned into a soft chuckle and I had to hang my head to hide my laughter.

His laugh was much louder than mine. “Well,” I felt the booth move from beneath me. “Do you want to dance?” I returned my gaze to him, a bit shocked by the question. “You look a little lonely.”

I couldn't stop myself from slowly getting out of my seat. I watched as his smile grew and he led me to the dance floor.

After about four songs of laughing like lunatics and making fun of each other's dancing, we left the dance floor. I went to return to the booth I was sitting at, but a few other kids had taken the seats.

“No sweat,” the man said and led me towards the door. “I need some fresh air anyway. Smells like ass in there.” We exited to the street and walked down a bit to lean on a spot in the wall where the sidewalk was unoccupied. I pulled out a cigarette and lit it up, the man watching my every move. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye and he smiled then looked away. “I'm Michael, by the way.”

“Gavin,” I said after taking a drag.

There was a silence that fell between us after that. It wasn't awkward or unpleasant, but it had a nice timing and felt natural. I put out my cigarette on the brick wall behind us and threw it to the ground.

“That shit will kill you, ya' know.” He had sat down on the sidewalk and was looking up at me with a tilted head and a kind expression.

I sank down to the wall beside him. “What does it matter? I might as well be dead.” I raised an eyebrow and looked at him.

“Don't say shit like that, dude.” His expression was no longer kind and his brow was furrowed.

I was confused by his reaction. I'd say those kinds of things to Barbara all the time and she'd never out right disapproved. The feeling was odd and didn't sit well with me. Had I upset him?

“Sorry,” I replied and faced forward again. Things grew silent between us again, but this time it was much more awkward.

“Gavin!” I heard Barbara's voice call from the direction of the club entrance. I looked in that direction and she was stumbling out with a guy around her waist.

“Your girlfriend?” I felt Michael's elbow jab me in the forearm and I jumped at the pain that I wasn't expecting. He didn't seem to notice, and I shrugged it off before he could catch on.

“God, no. Just a friend.” I waved at her with pursed lips.

“What are you doing out here?” She was overly giggly and clearly drunk.

“I'm just,” I pointed to Michael with my thumb. “Hanging out here with a friend.”

“I didn't know you two were friends! Hi, Michael!” She laughed and almost fell over, the support of the man at her side making sure she didn't.

“Hey, Barb,” he smiled and waved back at her.

“You two know each other?” I questioned.

“He's in a few classes with me at the university!” She giggled and turned to plant a kiss on the stranger's lips. “Gav, could you catch a bus home? I'm gonna go home with Rick.”

“I... I guess I could.” I looked at the time on my phone. It was nearly 3:30 am.

“I'll make sure he gets back alright, Barb.” Michael stood up and tugged on my arm, his fingers digging in directly where it hurt. I couldn't help but show how much pain I was in. “You alright?” He asked as I got to my feet.

“Yeah,” I stated. “I'm alright.” I shrugged off the sting.

Barbara and Rick parted ways with us and Michael began walking in the opposite direction. I only followed after a couple seconds of not realizing we were moving. We reached a parking garage and took an elevator to the top floor where Michael's car was parked. He opened my door for me and made sure I was in before he shut it and went to his own.

We drove towards my apartment building after I'd given him the directions. He seemed to know where it was rather easily. As the ride went on and on, I felt myself sinking back into the suicidal thoughts. I didn't want to be alive again, after feeling just okay all night. We pulled up to the front of the complex; the road was mostly abandoned besides a few cars parked several spaces away.

“Thanks for the ride,” I stated, pulling on my door handle, realizing the door was locked. I just wanted to crawl into my bathroom and try and slice myself up again.

“No problem,” he said with a smile. I looked to the door to unlock it, pushing up on the automatic button, only to have it immediately relocked by Michael. I looked back towards him, a confused expression on my face. “There is one thing, though.”

“Oh?” I questioned.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

Of all the questions he could have asked me, that one was what I was least expecting. I thought about my schedule and knew that I was free. The suicidal thoughts were sitting heavy in my mind but they started to dissipate. “I'm free,” I said nervously.

“Did you want to do something? Like get food or play video games? You seem like a cool dude to do dumb, meaningless shit with.”

I smiled, and it wasn't just in the corner of my mouth this time. It was a smile that I could feel in my cheeks and my eyes. I hadn't felt a smile like that in a long time. “Y-yeah that sounds top.”

“You can cut the fake accent,” he teased as I hung my head and shook it. He unlocked the door for me after entering his number in my phone and sending himself a text.

I stepped out, re-pocketing my phone and shutting the door behind me. I looked back at him and he rolled down his window.

“See you tomorrow, ass hole!” He screamed out with a smile on his face.

I waved and just before he rolled up his window, I shouted back to him. “This isn't fake! I actually talk like this.”

“Sure you do!” and with that, he drove off. 


	4. Different

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this was going to be a lot shorter than it ended up being so there's that. It also took me about 5 times longer to write than a normal chapter. (Tumblr post: http://poohmandu.tumblr.com/post/67231434395/becoming-free-4)

 I looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was disheveled and greasy after being out all night. It was still late in the night, or rather early in the morning. I couldn't decide what I wanted to call it. Empty eyes were looking back at me, dark circles lining them.

I didn't know what I wanted to do. I had such an urge to pick up the box cutter not even an hour ago. When Michael asked if I wanted to do something the next day, the urge started to go away. I was stuck in a state of wanting to and not wanting to. I'd never had that feeling before. I'd always been so sure that I wanted to die, I just needed the means to make it happen. I had the box cutter. It was sitting in front of me in the bottom of the sink near the drain. It didn't matter if I'd failed. I would have tried a million times if I had to. I'd already tried three times, what was another time? I just wanted peace from the never ending sadness and despair.

I ran my right hand through my hair and was reminded of the pain when it made itself known. My coat was gone and slung over the couch in the living room and my bandages were exposed for me to examine for the first time since I'd gone out. I could see certain spots where the cuts had broken open and started to bleed again by small red dots in the cloth. I unwrapped it slowly, pulling a little harder where the blood had dried to it. When it was fully exposed, I held my forearm up in front of me. It was disgusting and made me sick to my stomach. The cuts were deep, some more split open than others. Most of them were crusted over with blood and pus. I thought about living with the scar and having it for the rest of my life and the urge to pick up the box cutter reemerged. I was reminded of how I felt before I had attempted suicide every time: empty.

I reached into the sink with my left hand; I squeezed my right hand shut, bracing for the contact of the blade. As I wrapped my fingers around the handle of the box cutter, my phone began to ring. I inhaled sharply, a little shocked by the sound.

“Hello?” I answered as I replaced the blade with my phone.

“Hey,” A voice came through the speaker.

“Who is this?”

“What,” He snickered. “You don't look at caller ID?”

I pulled the phone away from my face and the screen lit up. “Oh, Michael. What's up?”

“Just wanted to make sure the number was right.”

“Didn't you text yourself from my phone? It should have been right...”

“Yeah, I know. I can't sleep. Are we still on for tomorrow? Like, you're not having second thoughts or anything?”

I looked down at the box cutter in the sink. “Uh...” I forgot everything that I was about to do and instead grabbed a washcloth out of the cabinet beside the toilet. “Yeah. Yeah, we're still on.”

“Awesome. How about I pick you up at your place around noon? We can get lunch that way.”

“Sounds good.” I wet the washcloth in the sink and put some hand soap on it while I pressed my phone to my ear with my shoulder. “I'll see you tomorrow then?”

“Sure thing. Oh another thing,” He went on. I ran the washcloth over the cuts, washing away all that I could without making myself bleed again. “I only called to see if you'd break out of the accent.”

I chuckled. “How can you not believe me? I've never said anything _not_ in this accent.”

“Dude,” he teased. “How many British guys are there in Texas? It's not far fetched to think you're faking it.”

“I'm not! I promise.”

“I'm still doubtful. What part of Britain are you from?”

“I'm from Oxfordshire,” I answered.

“I'm not sure if answering right away signals a lie or ensures truth.”

“If you don't believe me, I'll show you my passport tomorrow.” I dried off my arm and pulled out the box of bandages.

“Fine, fine,” he laughed. “I'll see you tomorrow at noon then?”

“Tomorrow at noon,” I repeated him, wrapping my arm again.

“Good night,” he said to me, and before I had time to reply, he'd hung up. I left the bathroom then, turning out the light and closing the door. I looked to the left where the couch was and thought about crashing there like I did every night. Something in my mind didn't want me to though and I started walking the opposite direction. My room was at the end of the hallway and I couldn't remember the last time I'd opened the door. Even my clothes were no longer kept there, finding a new home in a clean pile and a dirty pile in my living room.

The door creaked once I'd turned the knob and began to open. I peered inside through a small crack, not sure what to expect. I opened it fully when I realized that there was nothing to expect. The room was spotless. There were no clothes on the floor. There weren't any personal items on the dresser or the night stand. The bed was neatly made with my plain beige comforter on top. Everything important had been moved to other parts of the apartment so I had easy access to them without having to enter the room.

I wasn't sure why I didn't use the room. It could have been that the queen sized bed reminded me how alone I was or it could have been that I felt no need to keep my personal belongings so personal and separate when I could die at any moment – and was trying to.

I couldn't force myself to move into the room. My feet wouldn't work when my brain told them to move forward. I grabbed the knob of the door and shut it again, walking back to the beginning of the hallway where the living room started. I decided I was better off sleeping on the couch. I walked over to it and flopped down, pulling my blanket from the floor to wrap around myself.

I stared up at the ceiling for a while, thinking over the events of the evening and smiled when I thought of Barb and Michael.

It was then that I realized I was still alive and I didn't have the blade in my hand anymore.


	5. Soiled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> decided today that everyone who is a fan of my work is now a pineapple (tumblr post: http://poohmandu.tumblr.com/post/67390918143/becoming-free-5-soiled)

 I woke up to my phone ringing. I nearly rolled off the couch at the sound of it so suddenly. Jumping to my feet, I scanned the room for where I had set it the night before. My heart was racing from the shock.

The end table was covered in miscellaneous dishes and wrappers. I pushed some aside and my phone was nowhere to be found. It sounded so close, yet I couldn't seem to locate it. It wasn't on the cluttered coffee table or the television stand. I couldn't find it on the floor or in the couch itself. It wasn't until I gave up and hit my hands against my sides that I realized it was in my pocket. I groaned at my stupidity and held it to my ear at the last ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey, ass hole,” Michael's irritated but teasing voice rang. “Where the hell are you?”

I read the time from my oven clock. 12:24. “Dammit. Please tell me my clock is wrong and I didn't sleep in.”

“You slept in! How could you?” He joked and a line of snickers came through the other side.

“Yeah Gavin,” a female voice followed. “You blew it!”

“Lindsay?” I asked, rushing around to find clothes to wear.

“I'm at the front desk, dude,” Michael continued to tease. “Are you gonna be down or should I wait a bit?”

I found a plain gray shirt with a pocket and a pair of seemingly clean jeans. “No, I'll be-” I was cut off by my reflection in the mirror as I entered the bathroom and sighed. “I'm gonna have to shower. I'm absolutely mingey.”

“Okay, not sure what that means. Take you time and I'll be in the lobby.”

“Sounds good.”

I undressed myself quickly and removed the bandages as fast as I could to get in the shower. I didn't even take the time to let the water heat up fully like I normally would have and was out in five minutes. I attempted to brush my teeth while I dressed myself, barely taking the time to dry myself off. I ran the towel back and forth over my hair a few times deciding that the air could do the rest of the work. I debated on shaving what little stubble had grown on my face and decided against it. Looking to my antidepressants, I thought about actually starting to take them. I pushed the thought aside and ignored the bottle, moving on to more important things.

The final step was reapplying my bandages. I looked to the cabinet where they should have been. Instead of finding wrappings, I found the empty box they came in. I must have run out. I looked down at my arm. The flesh was red and raised around each individual letter, the insides scabbed over slightly. The deeper ones looked like they were having a hard time forming scabs and it looked like I might need stitches. I shoved the thought away and changed into a long sleeve shirt then bolted out the door.

“Wow,” Michael said as I entered the lobby. He was leaning an arm on the desk and facing Lindsay. She looked my way as well and smiled. “That only took you a century.”

“Sorry, mate.” I ran a hand through my slightly damp hair and placed the other in my pants pocket. I noticed that I hadn't grabbed a jacket far too late and didn't bother to say anything in fear of wasting more of Michael's time. Through the glass doors of the front of the building, it looked like it was another sunny day, but it was winter time in Texas and was most likely chilly out.

Lindsay chuckled. “I was just telling Michael here about how you always sleep in late.”

“I don't sleep in that often,” I tried to manage a nervous laugh.

“You're always late!” I could tell she was poking fun at me, but I tried to think of the last instance I was on time and I couldn't. It really got to me. “No big deal though,” she finished, probably noticing a change in my expression.

“Are you ready then? I called in subs from Jersey Mike's.” Michael signaled behind him towards the door and I walked towards him until he followed my stride.

“See you boys later maybe?” Lindsay called after us.

“Maybe,” Michael waved with a smile. I waved too, wondering if Lindsay had told him what time she got off.

He led me out the door and down the sidewalk a bit. The entire street was lined with cars parked on either side, much like it always was during the day. His car was parked in front of the building next door and I felt a little guilty that he'd had to wait for me for so long. His parking meter was most likely nearly up. We climbed in and drove down the street for a couple blocks until we reached Jersey Mike's. Michael parked the car and opened his door, leaving the keys in the ignition and the engine on.

“Lock the doors, I'll be back in a sec,” He said to me.

“Okay mother,” I answered him sarcastically, pressing down on the lock button.

He smirked at me and muttered, “Idiot,” under his breath. Shutting the door behind him, he walked up the side walk and into the front doors of the building.

I nervously fidgeted in the passenger seat of his car waiting for him to return, tracing the raised skin of my cuts through my sleeve. It stung a little when I touched certain spots, but it was nothing unbearable. At some point that day I needed to get more bandages. The damage was far from healed and in no way was ready to go without protection, but I didn't have a choice. I didn't want the think of making Michael wait longer so I could walk to the store to get bandages. How would I explain that to him? More of the grease burns story? It hardly worked on Barbara the night before, if it worked at all. I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep up the charade.

A knock on the driver's side window made me jump and dig my nails into the tender flesh of my forearm. The pain shot up my arm and it felt like I was suddenly on fire. I looked over to see Michael with a box in his arms. I unlocked and opened the door for him and he handed me the box.

“Did I scare you?” He chuckled, buckling himself in.

“Maybe a bit.” We pulled onto the road again and started driving as best we could through traffic. It was lunch hour on a Wednesday. I looked down at the box resting in my lap and noticed it was far too big for just two subs. “How many subs did you get?”

“Four foot longs.”

“Why four?” I knew that I would hardly be able to finish a single one.

“I wasn't sure what you wanted.”

I was silent at that. We pulled up to an apartment complex a few minutes later. I recognized the area as being close to campus and figured that all the apartments were occupied by students. We parked the car and he led me up a set of exposed stairs to the second floor where he took out keys and opened the door for me, still carrying the box. I stepped in to his large and spacious living room. A couch was pushed against a far wall, his enormous television opposite it. His kitchen had bar seating on the outside of it, an open window allowing the counter top to serve as the table for the stools. A hallway was in between the bar and the couch and it presumably led back to the bedroom and the bathroom.

“You can sit that down on the counter over there.” He pointed to the bar and I crossed the room to it after taking off my shoes. He went down the hallway and entered the kitchen from there, placing himself across the counter from me. When I sat down at the middle seat, the room seemed like it was spinning and I could feel myself wobble a little. He handed me a plate and opened the box. “Okay we've got cold cut turkey, spicy chicken, veggie sub, and club melt.”

“I'll take the cold cut,” I said, reaching with my left hand for it. I placed half of it on my own plate and he reached in for the spicy chicken one, grabbing the full foot long. He closed the box and moved it out of the way and something shocking was left on the counter.

“What the fuck...” He put his finger in the red liquid. “Is this blood?”

I went wide eyed and looked down at my arm. I couldn't think straight. I couldn't believe it was happening. Sure enough, my sleeve was soaked with blood.

Before I could stop him, Michael was exiting the kitchen and walking up to me. “What the fuck?” he looked at my sleeve. “Are you okay, dude?”

“I-I...” The dizziness kicked in again. Suddenly that made sense.

Michael held on to my wrist gingerly and pulled back my sleeve, exposing my masterpiece that was dripping blood out of the deepest cut. It must have broken open when he had startled me in the car. He looked down at my arm from the standing position he was in. The look on his face was that of confusion and concern.

“Holy shit,” I heard him mumble as he took of down the hallway. I heard a door open and a few things were thrown around then he came rushing out with a first aid kit. “Gavin,” He called my name as he pulled out a stool for himself. He wiped off my arm with a paper towel then opened the first aid kit and began trying to slow the blood flow. “When did you do this?”

“Two days ago,” I answered plainly. I didn't want him to find out like that. I could have gone my entire life without letting him know about the scars on my arm. I figured that he wouldn't want to hang out with me anymore.

“Two fucking days? Why haven't you gotten fucking stitches?”

“It didn't cross my mind at all.” I put my left elbow on the counter and pressed my fingers into my eyes. I had no desire to be in that apartment with him. I felt like an idiot.

“We have to get you stitches, dude.” He finished wrapping my arm. The flow had slowed but I was still bleeding pretty steadily. He stood up from the stools and offered me a hand. “C'mon,” he said when I didn't grab it. I put my hand in his and he pulled me to my feet and I almost fell over from the blood loss. “How are you feeling?”

“Not so great.” I hung my head momentarily, trying to regain my balance. I felt an arm slide around my waist and my bad arm was slung around Michael's shoulders.

“You're fine. Let's just get you to the hospital.” I didn't have the energy to protest and he led me out the door and to his car.


	6. Shameful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had some major internet problems today but here it is (Tumblr post: http://poohmandu.tumblr.com/post/67526792945/becoming-free-6-shameful)

 The emergency room was nearly empty and I was able to get a doctor fairly quickly. They stitched up the parts of my arm that needed it and had me sit around for an hour to make sure that there wouldn't be any complications with the blood loss. They didn't want to give me a blood transfusion because I wasn't showing any immediate signs that may have led them to believe I'd lost a great amount of blood.

Michael was by my side the entire time. He didn't say much other than reading the questions from the forms I had to fill out. He wrote down the answers without question. He sat in a chair in the doctors office and watched intently as he stitched my arm and treated the wounds. I couldn't watch because the sight of the needle going into my numbed flesh made me sick to my stomach. I turned my head away and looked to Michael. His eyes were fixed to the doctor's hands, watching him do his work until he noticed that I was looking at him. His gaze switched to mine and he must have noticed my discomfort because he gave me a smile and crossed the room to place a hand on my shoulder. The doctor didn't even look up.

I was questioned about my mental health after the doctor had finished. He wanted to know if I was alright and if I was seeing a therapist. He wanted to know if I needed a recommendation.

“No, I'm fine. I'm not seeing a therapist.”

He put a pen to his clipboard and wrote something down. “Are you currently on medication such as anti-depressants?”

“Yes.” I wasn't actively taking them, but stating they were prescribed would keep me out of therapy.

“Are you experiencing any suicidal thoughts or actions?” The question sounded very stupid to me.

“I mean,” I held up my arm, unable to properly move my wrist. “That's what this is.”

“I just need a yes or no, Mr. Free.” His face held an uncomfortable expression.

“Yes then.” I saw Michael give me a look out of the corner of my eye but I couldn't bare to look at him.

“And you're refusing a therapist. Am I correct in saying that?”

“Correct.”

After that, he left. Michael and I sat in silence for the hour they required me to stay. I wasn't sure if he didn't know what to say or if he was too uncomfortable to talk about the situation. When they discharged me, he led me to his car and made sure I wouldn't fall over. I was still a little dizzy and a bit drained. A new bandage was over my arm and I ran my left hand over it in the car ride.

I expected Michael to take me home after that. It was still fairly early in the day – just passed two – and it would have been easy to drop me off at my apartment for the rest of the day. I was certain that he wouldn't want to be my friend after knowing what was under my sleeve and what it meant. Barbara was the only one that stayed my friend after I told everyone about my second attempt at suicide and my depression and even she could only take my pessimistic attitude in small doses. Michael had a perfect chance to back out. I expected him to wholeheartedly until we pulled up to the front of his apartment complex.

I had a confused look across my face. Michael must have seen it and chuckled to himself. “C'mon, ass hole, let's go finish our subs.”

We walked up the steps to his suite like nothing had happened and we ate our subs while watching television on his couch. When we were finished eating, Michael turned off the set and looked to me.

“So,” he turned himself to completely face me on the couch. “What do you want to do?”

“Uh,” I turned a couple thoughts over in my head. “I'm not sure...”

“We could go for a walk,” He suggested.

“That sounds pretty top.” I wanted to get up and move around a bit and see if I could shake the light headed feeling.

“Alright,” He smiled and stood up from the couch. “I know a few places we can go around campus.”

We left the apartment and walked up the street a bit and, sure enough, we ended up on campus. We talked about college and what classes Michael was taking. He was majoring in electrical engineering with a minor in film production and had been in school for three years. I told him that I was in school for a while and didn't know what major I was going to pick. I dropped out before I was even decided.

He was from New Jersey and had been accepted to quite a few colleges outside of the state before he settled on Texas. His mother and father still lived in New Jersey and he went back every holiday to spend it with them and his brothers.

“Why did you move here from England?” He asked me as we were passing through a park.

“Oh, you finally believe that my accent is real?” I teased. “I needed to get away.”

I told him how my parents were very supportive of me moving out of the country and that they wanted me to be happy no matter what. They could tell that I was unhappy and wanted to do whatever they could for me. They sent me to America because it was all I could talk about. I didn't tell Michael the reason I wanted to leave was to kill myself in peace without having my parents there to suffer heartache. I hadn't contacted them in over a year.

“I've gotta ask,” He started. “The cuts were a suicide attempt?” His expression was gentle and curious.

My heart sank. “Y-yeah,” I answered flatly. I didn't want to burden him with my problems and I sure as hell didn't want to have the conversation in public.

His mouth formed a frown. “Two days ago?”

“Yeah,” I answered again. I felt ashamed. I'd never felt ashamed before.

“Were you scared?”

I scoffed at that. “No.”

“Not even a little?”

“Maybe the first time-” I stopped myself from talking. I was an idiot.

“What do you mean the first time?” He had stopped walking and I took a few more steps before I stopped and turned to face him. I couldn't look him in the eyes.

“Forget I said anything.” I smacked myself mentally.

“No, you've got my attention now. What do you mean by the first time? How many times have you done this?”

I already slipped and our friendship was most likely over. I felt no need to hold anything back. “I've tried to off myself 3 times.”

“Including this time?”

“Including this time.”

“And you were only scared the first time?”

“Only because I didn't want to run into traffic.”

“You were completely fine with dying?”

“I guess so.”

I could tell that he was trying hard not to raise his voice. “You were completely fine with throwing your life away? Leaving your friends and family behind?”

I tried not to think of that side of the situation. Of course it had crossed my mind before, which is why I started to cut off all my relationships. I thought it would be easier on people if we weren't friends. Some just wouldn't let go, like Barbara. Some left before I cut them off and were gone when my depression worsened. I didn't know how to answer Michael's question.

“I don't know, Michael.”

He hung his head. “I'm sorry. I don't really have a right to ask, do I?”

“No, it's fine. It's just not easy to talk about.”

“If you don't want to talk about it, it's totally fine.” He looked to me and smiled with concern still in his eyes.

I sighed and managed half a smile. “Could we at least finish this walk?”

“Sure thing.”


	7. Careless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly this was done last night I just didn't have time to post it (Tumblr post: http://poohmandu.tumblr.com/post/67610681320/becoming-free-7-careless)

 “The first time I tried,” I started. We were sat on the couch at Michael's apartment, facing each other from opposite ends. Both of us had a beer in hand and casually sipped as I talked. “I was twenty. I'd been depressed since before I came to the states. I really just wanted to get away from my parents for a while and see if it got any better. They weren't terrible parents in the least. They were actually fantastic and very supportive. They helped me with the move and they still send me money every so often just to make sure I'm doing okay.

“Unfortunately, it didn't get any better. In fact, it got much worse. I decided that I wanted out and I jumped in front of a car. Like I said, I was scared doing that, but I wasn't really scared of dying. I just knew it was going to hurt. I woke up in the middle of the street with cops and paramedics surrounding me. I couldn't have been out for more than an hour. I got out with just a few broken bones and that was it.”

He looked at me, waiting for the rest of the story. “The second time, was only about three months ago. There was a long gap in between the two because I beat myself up pretty god about failing. It took me a while to come to terms with that. I'd strung a rope over an exposed beam in my apartment at the time. The beam broke and the neighbors called help when they heard a thud and found me on the floor. The beam hit me in the head and knocked me out for quite some time. The landlord evicted me and took me to court for structural damage. I got out of it by claiming mental instability. It was my lawyer's idea and I hated to think that I was mentally unstable. They sent me to forty days in therapy, five days a week, and I came out hating my life even more, this time with a prescription for Prozac.”

“You should be about done with that, right?” He asked, casually sipping on a beer.

“Done with what?”

“The Prozac.”

“Oh,” I fell back on the arm of the couch, avoiding his gaze. I raised the bottle to my mouth. “I never started.” I took a sip and fixed my eyes on a corner of the room.

“You never got the prescription?”

“I did, I just never started taking them.”

“You told the doctor you were on medication.”

“I lied.”

“If you would take them, you wouldn't feel so shitty.”

“That's the thing though,” I took another sip and returned my eyes to his. “You get worse before you get better. Weeks will go by and you'll be terrible. You'll be so much further down than you usually are and after all that suffering, there's a chance of your mood getting better. It's just one big stupid scam.”

“Have you taken any of them?”

“I've taken one. Yesterday, in fact.”

“Why?”

“I can honestly say I don't know. An overwhelming need to open them?”

He didn't say anything and simply nodded his head before taking another sip of his beer. He must have finished it because he took it to the kitchen and came back with a new one. He faced forward this time instead of facing me.

I was waiting for him to say that I should leave and catch a bus home. I felt like such a burden and I knew that he wouldn't want to even consider being my friend after hearing all of my issues. They weren't his and I felt guilty for even being at his house that day. I felt guilty that, on the first day we hung out, he had to take me to the hospital and hear my entire messed up back story.

“Do you want to play some video games?” He broke into my train of thought. I was caught off guard by the question.

“What?” I asked him and he crawled on the floor over to his entertainment system.

“We've got GTA:V. The one that came out last night. It doesn't have multiplayer but we could hand off on certain missions.”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, that sounds fun.”

The rest of the night was spent drinking beer and playing Grand Theft Auto. At a certain point, we were no longer able to properly play the game and drunkenly smashed into buildings and people. Michael chased down one person for five blocks on a five star wanted level before he was shot down by the police. I mostly just watched and giggled more and more furiously the more drunk I became. I was pretty worn out from the day I'd had. From the blood loss to the hospital to the several mile long walk we took, I was beat. I must have fallen asleep after my sixth beer because I woke up to Michael carrying me like a bride to the bedroom.

“M-michael?”

“Shh, Gavin. I'm putting you to bed.” He stumbled through the door way, a little drunk himself.

“No, Michael,” I mumbled as he set me down. “I have to sleep at home.”

“I'm drunk,” He laughed and started to pull back the covers for me. “I can't take you home.”

“I'm drunk too.” I sat up on the bed, making it hard for him to remove the sheets.

“Lay down, you fucking idiot.” He slurred through his words, laughing between each one. He hadn't even bothered to turn on the switch. The light from the window was illuminating a sliver of his face through the blinds and I picked out all his features again like the previous night at the club. His dimples were like little divots in his face, making his smile bright and friendly. His lips were flush and full.

I felt his hand on my shoulder push me back to the bed, this time under the covers and he clumsily tugged them back over my body. He then turned around to leave the room.

“What, no bed time story?”

“You want a bed time story?” He turned and continued giggling. “What do you want a story about?”

“I want a story with a happy ending.” He sat down on the bed by my legs and leaned back so he was laying over them with his feet still hanging off the side.

He gave one last laugh then a sigh before he started telling the story through drunken slurs. “Once upon a time, there was a princess. His name was Gavino.”

“Why am I a princess?” I interrupted.

“Hush, let me tell the story. Okay so princess Gavino was very sad. He was sad for a while and was locked in this big fucking tower in the middle of god damn no where. He kept himself locked in the tower all day and all night. Until one day, a brave knight named Michael came to the tower. Gavino looked down at Michael and laughed. He didn't want help from the tower because he wanted to be there but Michael wanted to do all that he could to get him out regardless. So Michael told Gavino how great he was and how it would be super cool if he would come out of the tower. Eventually, Gavino got sick of Michael's bitching and came down just to slap him. And Michael took Gavino on the back of his super bad ass black horse and road to his castle in the kingdom. They lived there together forever and Michael kept Gavino safe from the monsters that tried to take him back to the tower. The end.”

I couldn't speak when he'd finished. I knew what he meant by it and it hurt me inside to know that he wanted to help me. I wished I could make him not care about my well being but it was clearly too late.

“Did you like the happy ending?” He asked, sitting up straight.

“It was nice.”

“Good,” He stood up and walked to the door. “Now go to sleep.” He smiled and left the room making sure to crack the door. Soon enough, I saw the lights from the kitchen and living room go out and I was met with silence. I couldn't help but think about my own bed and how it had been vacant for so long.

Soon enough, I drifted off to sleep and had a dream about Michael's story.


	8. Nice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the reason why I chose to name this chapter "nice" instead of another descriptive word that meant something else is because when I was in english composition, my teacher would always call me out for using the word nice as a descriptive word in stories and I kind of just want to spit in his face because it can be such a heavy word, meaning so many different things and it's good to use when you want someone to interpret a certain situation in a free way and give them complete interpretive freedom while reading. This one is completely up to you and how you want to see it. (tumblr post: http://poohmandu.tumblr.com/post/67932397147/becoming-free-8-nice)

 I woke up the next morning to the smell of something burning. My eyes shot wide open, frantically trying to remember where I was. The room didn't look familiar, but I remembered being with Michael the night before, meaning I was in his bed. As I swung my feet over the bed and sat up to investigate the smell, I was hit with a terrible head ache. Squeezing my eyes tight, I tried to will it to go away but it was still there when I opened them. After feeling steady enough to cope with the pain, I stood to my feet and walked out the door an down the hallway.

Michael was standing in the kitchen, frantically trying to stop the smoke that was rising from the stove. I heard him mumbling, “fuck,” over and over again. I cleared my throat and he turned around to look me over.

“Oh hey,” He said, trying to hide the smoke. “Didn't hear you.” He laughed nervously and turned back to the stove, lowering his head and grabbing a large lid from the counter to his side.

“What are you, uh, cooking?” I asked with a chuckle.

He let out a sigh. “Well, it was supposed to be our breakfast. I was trying to be a fucking cool guy but I fucked it up.” He moved the pan over to the sink and turned off the stove. Running water over the pan and the lid, he turned on the garbage disposal and pushed what must have been burnt sausage down the drain.

“It's no big deal,” I told him. “We could get something to eat?”

“Yeah, we could.” He turned off the disposal and leaned against the counter. “I have classes in three hours so we could get something, then I'll drop you off.”

“Sure thing.” I was a little upset learning that Michael and I wouldn't be spending the day together but it made sense. It was Thursday and he was in college after all.

We left the building after cleaning up Michael's mess. He drove us to a diner that he swore by and we sat down to order. The waitress was dressed in a 50's style dress and had makeup like a new-age pinup model. She was overly friendly and her voice got under my skin when she asked what we wanted to drink. When she walked away, Michael laughed at me.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said, hiding his mouth with his hand. “You just look so annoyed.”

“Is it that obvious?” I asked, worrying a bit that she'd caught on.

“Very obvious. I wouldn't be surprised if she spits in your food.” I sighed and leaned back in my uncomfortable chair and looked around the diner. “What annoyed you?”

“Her voice.”

“Dude,” he smiled and leaned back in his chair as well. “Don't let stuff like that bother you.”

The waitress came back with our drinks before I could respond. We both ordered the same thing: a plate of pancakes and a side of bacon. I tolerated her voice and tried to ignore it as best I could per Michael's advice. It wasn't too long before our food came and we began to dig in.

“How's your arm feeling?” He asked with a mouthful of food.

I looked down at my pushed up sleeves and inspected the bandage. It was a little sore and itched like crazy. “It's alright,” I answered him, shoving another bite of pancakes in my mouth.

“Good. The doctor said that he used dissolving stitches and they should be gone in one to two weeks.”

“When did he say that?”

“When you were checking out.”

“Why did he tell you?”

“He thought we were, ya know,” He waved a fork in the air and swallowed his mouthful hard. “Together.”

I looked at him blankly, not understanding what he was getting at. Clearly we were there together. He'd driven me there.

His cheeks turned red when he realized I didn't understand. “Sexually.”

The thought of Michael and I made my cheeks turn twice as red as his. I almost choked on my food and began coughing. He couldn't help but nervously laugh at me.

“Don't worry about that. He also said you have to change the bandages every day.”

“I can do that.”

“I want to make sure that you do because you could get a nasty fucking infection.”

I groaned. “What are you, my mum?”

He laughed at me and continued to eat, talking through a full mouth. “I'm serious though! I went through the trouble of getting you to the hospital, I want to make sure it was worth while and not wasted.”

His statement made my heart sink. I was sure he didn't mean anything by it, but I couldn't help but feel like all I'd done so far was waste his time and make things hard for him. The feeling was multiplied by thousands when the waitress came back with our bills and I realized I hadn't brought my wallet to Michael's. He picked up the bill without hesitation and insisted that he planned to anyway. The last thing I wanted to be was a burden and I felt like that was all I'd been since the moment I stepped into Michael's car.

We drove back to my apartment building a half hour before he needed to be in class. Pulling up to the front, he found a temporary parking spot easily. I stepped out and waved good bye as he rolled down the window.

“So, when can I see you again?” The way he asked made me blush.

I rubbed my right elbow, just above the bandages, with my left hand and shrugged. “I'm, uh, free whenever.”

“We could go out for drinks tomorrow?” He asked with a smile.

“Sounds top,” I smiled back at him after a short, contemplative pause.

“I'll see you tomorrow then.”

“See you.” I waved and smiled as I turned to walk away. After a couple steps, Michael called back out to me.

“Gavin,” I turned back to him. “If you're ever feeling down or, ya know...” He let the sentence trail off and I filled it mentally with the word 'suicidal.' A frown formed on my face. “Just call me. Never be afraid to.”

I sighed. “Thanks, Michael.” I knew I could never take him up on the offer.

I walked through the front doors and Lindsay was there to greet me, a smile on her face.

“How was your night?” She asked, eager to know the details.

“It was fun,” I smiled and kept walking.

“What, that's it? No juicy details or anything?”

“Maybe another day.” I stepped into the elevator and, as it closed, I saw Lindsay stick her tongue out at me. It's not like there was much to tell her. I sure as hell wasn't going to mention the hospital trip. We got drunk and played video games like a couple of guys would. What was she expecting? I couldn't help but wonder. The thoughts of Michael and I together came back to me and I blushed, looking around me as if there was someone to hide my expression from. I was in an empty elevator. There was nothing to worry about.

The elevator doors opened to my floor and I stepped out. I walked down the hallway until I got to my door. I stepped inside and immediately crossed the room to the couch. I was alone again. It only sank in when I thought about asking Michael what he wanted to do. It never bothered me that I was constantly alone and I much preferred it to being in public around strangers I didn't know. Not that having friends was a bad thing. The only friend I had was Barbara and she wasn't one to sit inside with me and talk about meaningless things, nor would I want to with her. She was more of a socialite, always needing to do something. The fact that she never wanted to sit around made me a bit lonely, but I'd never felt loneliness the way I did the day I came home from Michael's for the first time.


	9. Hopeful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be things done. Things that are planned that have not happened yet. Things that I'm going to do. (tumblr post: http://poohmandu.tumblr.com/post/68114514363/becoming-free-9-hopeful)

 I sat on the couch staring blankly out the window for hours before I heard a knock on my door. It was mostly unexpected, but in the pit of my stomach, I knew it was going to happen. I crossed the room to the door and opened it to find Lindsay, smiling and waiting. I let her in and she went to the kitchen.

“How was your day?” I asked her. She was already pulling out a pot and a lid from the cabinet to the left of the oven.

“It was boring, like always. Mac n' Cheese?” She asked me, hardly waiting for an answer and finding a box on the counter beside my refrigerator.

“You don't have to make me food, ya' know.” She turned her head towards me and gave me a questioning look. “You could just go straight home after work and forget about me.”

“You'd starve,” she laughed and filled the pot with water and placed it on the stove, turning the burner on. “Plus, you've never been one to protest. What changed?” her voice was teasing, most likely referring to my night at Michael's.

“Nothing changed,” I replied, irritated. “I was just thinking that it's a little weird.”

“It's not weird, we're just friends having dinner. You never expect me anyway.”

She was right. I never expected her to show up. She came at least once a week after her shift to make me dinner. It started around the time I moved in. I had been carrying in a bag of cat food and she stopped me and asked my name. We chatted for a while and she asked if she could come up and see my cat some time. I gave her my floor and flat number and a couple days later after not seeing me, she knocked on my door. She told me later that she used the cat as an excuse to make sure I was doing okay and that she was shocked by the state I was in. I wasn't sure what she meant by that, but by the way that she had immediately asked if she could make food for me that day, I must have looked like I was dying of starvation, which was partially true. Before I'd met her, I only remembered to eat every couple of days. The cat ate better than I did. Even after all the time that I'd lived in the apartment, I never expected her to show up consistently or at all, but she always did.

“I never do, do I?” I sank back into the couch, thinking about it a little more. That day was the first time I'd expected her, even if it was only a little bit.

“Nope!” She commented and I could see her smile from where I was laying.

A couple minutes later, she came out of the kitchen with two plates of macaroni. I sat up, making room for her on the couch and she took her seat next to me.

“So,” she started as she handed me a plate. “How was Michael's?”

“You already asked me that.”

“Yeah, but I want to know how it really was. Did you go out? Did you meet any girls?”

I raised a forkful to my mouth and hesitated a moment before shoving it in. “No, we mostly stayed in.”

“What do you mean, 'mostly?'” she asked before taking a bite of her own.

“We went out for a walk after we finished lunch.” I thought about the hospital trip and how there was no way I'd ever tell her. If Barb didn't need to know, then Lindsay sure as hell didn't need to know.

“Where'd you walk?”

“Just around campus.”

“Oh, he lives on campus?”

“Close to it but not on it.”

We talked while we ate. I told her about playing video games and getting drunk together. She seemed to giggle furiously when I told her that I slept in his bed. I started blushing and had to point out that Michael slept elsewhere. She sarcastically said, “okay,” and dropped the subject.

After we'd finished eating, she washed the dishes she used as well as my plate and silverware and said her goodbyes. She hugged me and I wrapped my arms around her. When she pulled away, she looked me in the eyes and smiled.

“What?” I asked her, smiling back. Her arms were still lingering on my shoulders.

“Nothing,” she dropped her hands to rest on my arms. “You just seem happier.”

I was surprised by her statement. “I do?”

“Yeah. I hope it stays that way.”

With that, she left. I watched her walk down the hallway towards the elevator and shut the door when she'd gotten in. Again, I crossed the room to the couch and plopped down on it. I looked out the window, and tried to wipe the stupid smile off my face, but I couldn't seem to shake it. I went to look around again and see if anyone was watching me and I realized I was alone again. That seemed to shake the smile pretty easily.

I looked over to where Lloyd's bed was, expecting to see her cuddled up and asleep, but instead remembered that she was gone. It had been weeks and I missed her quite a bit. She was one of the only things that came with me when I moved to America. I thought about getting a new kitten. I had all of Lloyd's things, including a scratching post and toys. It would be pretty easy to care for it since I'd owned a cat before and still had all of the food and toys. Then I thought about going out to a pet store and looking for a cat. I had no desire to get up from where I was sitting. Not to mention it might be hard to pick out a kitten after losing Lloyd. Looking down at my wrist where my watch would have been, I was greeted instead with bandages. I sighed, remembering that I'd have to go out to the store to get new ones anyway.

After I'd gathered up my wallet and my jacket and I was about to walk out the door, I was struck with an idea. Having someone with me would make the situation a little more bearable. I took out my phone and went through my contact. It was a lot smaller than I'd remembered, only storing two to three contacts per letter and some letters were skipped completely. I scrolled down the list until I found the name I was looking for.

I heard someone yelling about something as soon as the other line had picked up. “Hello?”

“Hey, Michael.”

“Oh, hey. What's up?” His voice was lowered almost to a whisper. The angry voice continued in the background.

“Not much,” I paused to listen closer to the second person, trying to figure out their words. “What's going on in the background?”

“Uh,” He paused and I heard a door open.

“Who are you even talking to?” The secondary male voice screamed. “I'm in the middle of trying to-”

“Hold on, Gav,” he said and I heard the other line go dead. I pulled the phone away and looked at the screen to make sure I was still on the call. About two minutes later, Michael returned. “Hey, do you want to get coffee or something?”

“Y-yeah, sure. I was actually calling to-”

“Great, see you in ten.”

The line really went dead that time, and I was met with the dial tone.


	10. Friendly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE THING (tumblr post: http://poohmandu.tumblr.com/post/68226098308/becoming-free-10-friendly)

 I figured that I would wait for Michael in the lobby so he didn't have to call me when he got there. When he pulled up, he didn't get out of his car and waited for me with the engine on. He ended up calling me anyway and as he hung up, I read the time on my phone. It was just passed eight.

When I got in his car, I said hello and he gave me a small smile. I could tell something was wrong – backed up by the first phone call – but I didn't know how to ask about it. We sat in silence for most of the ride until we approached a coffee shop. He pulled up to the front and killed the engine then turned to me.

“Have you ever been here?” He asked.

I looked up at the sign through the windshield and squinted to read “Strange Brew.”

“No, I've never heard of it.”

“It's pretty popular.”

“I'm not much of a coffee drinker, honestly.”

He sighed heavily and started grabbing for the keys still in the ignition. “Sorry. We can do something else.”

“No!” I stopped him, trying not to make him feel bad. “It's fine, Michael. I'll order tea.”

He returned his gaze to me. His face was barely illuminated by the street lights outside. “Okay. Let's go in.”

We exited the car and went inside the coffee shop. We placed our orders at the front counter; Michael ordered a large double mocha caramel latte and I tried to order earl grey tea. Unfortunately they didn't have any available and claimed that they'd just ran out. I ended up ordering some tropical green tea. Once we got our drinks, we took a seat at a booth that was away from everyone else.

“Are you okay?” I finally worked up the courage to ask him.

“Hm?” he questioned with a far off look in his eye. “Oh, yeah. I'm fine.” Again he gave me a small smile that was far from sincere.

“Now,” I started, taking a sip of my tea, nearly burning my tongue. “I'm not very good at this whole 'noticing other people's feelings' thing, but I'm pretty sure you're not okay.”

He focused his eyes on my face and then looked down at his coffee sitting on the table, his mouth sporting a deep frown. He looked like he was about to burst into tears. “Yeah. Maybe you're right.”

“If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. I just want to know if I can help.”

“I guess the only way you could help is listen to my bull shit,” he tried to laugh. “Well, my... one friend and I got in a fight.”

“Oh?” I tried to be as attentive as possible.

“Yeah. It was a big fight, and probably will end everything with him.”

“That's really awful to hear. What was the fight about?”

He took a sip of his coffee and avoided looking at me. “I... don't really want to talk about that.”

I shook my head and leaned back in my seat. “That's fine.” I continued to sip on my tea as we sat in awkward silence. Michael had his fingers laced and resting under his chin as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table in front of us. He looked deep in thought and his eyebrows were squished together.

“You know what?” He burst out, stretching his arms out to his sides. “We should go do something else. Sitting here is getting to me.”

I looked down at my tea cup, still full of liquid. He had a cup with a lid, but I had a mug.

“I'll buy you a new one to go,” He said, standing up. “Meet me in the car.” He tossed the keys in my direction and walked towards the counter. I followed his directions and walked out to the car, starting it from the passenger seat once I climbed inside. It took about five minutes for Michael to join me with a cup of tea for me. “They found some left over earl grey to brew in the back,” he said calmly when he handed me the drink.

“Thank you,” I replied, wondering how he was able to get it.

“It's nothing. Where do you want to go?” He asked as he pulled out into the street to start driving.

“Well,” I took a sip of the tea. It was much less hot than the green tea but was still hot enough to be enjoyable. “I called you because I wanted to see if you would come with me to the pet store.”

“The pet store?”

“Yeah. My cat ran away a while ago and I'm ready for another kitten, I think.”

He smiled and this time is was legitimate. “Dude,” He laughed. “You're a fucking idiot.”

“What? Why am I an idiot this time?”

“It's almost 9 pm. Pet stores probably closed at around 6.”

“Oh,” I said, confused at first, but a smile soon spread across my face. “I am an idiot, aren't I?”

“Only a little bit.”

“Well, maybe we could go back to your place?”

“That's a negative. Miles is probably waiting for me still.”

“Is that your friend's name?”

“Y-yeah.” He paused, closing his eyes momentarily. “I don't suppose we could go back to your place?”

I thought about inviting Michael into my own apartment. I pictured walking in the door with him and letting him see where I lived. Thoughts of him being disgusted by the mess that it was flooded my mind. There was trash everywhere. I hadn't cleaned my apartment since I started living there. My clothes were scattered throughout the main room. There were empty boxes on the kitchen counter. The dining room table couldn't even be seen under all of the books that I had piled on top of it. The cat litter most likely hadn't even been changed since Lloyd ran away, but I couldn't remember for sure. I started to wonder how Lindsay could even walk in and bear to eat on the couch. It probably smelled awful in the flat.

“My place is kind of a disaster,” I replied, trying to hide my disgruntled expression.

“Maybe we could just go walk around a park?”

“Sure.”

We drove to a small park with some playground equipment and a short walking path around it. There was a pond off to the side that was lit up around the edges by landscaping lights and Michael decided that's where he wanted to walk. We cut across the grass and were met with the crunch of gravel under our feet. The short lights were illuminating Michael's features and gave him a soft yellow glow. I giggled thinking momentarily that he was the one glowing. He caught the sound I made and shot me a confused look that was topped with a smile. I returned the smile and pulled a cigarette out of the pack in my pocket and raised it to my lips.

“Is it alright if-”

“Yeah, go ahead.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and we continued down the path once I'd lit the cigarette and taken a drag. Michael was silent, looking down at his feet or up at the sky. I didn't know how to break him in to talking so I let him be, figuring that he must have been thinking about something important or troubling. After we completed a lap around the pond, Michael led me to a bench that was set back from the water.

“So,” he started. I threw out my dead cigarette butt in a nearby trashcan and sat down beside him. “I may not have been honest earlier.”

“About?” I leaned back and pulled an ankle up to rest just above my opposite kneecap.

“I lied because I wasn't sure if you'd understand, but you probably would. Miles isn't my friend, he's my boyfriend. Well,” He paused, looking for my reaction. I just raised my eyebrows slightly and continued to listen. “Soon to be ex.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. We haven't been getting along lately and tonight's fight was pretty much the last straw.”

“That's not very fortunate. I'm sorry Michael.”

“You're not very good at the whole sympathy thing either are you?” He laughed and matched my sitting position.

“I thought I was doing alright.” I gave a halfhearted smile. “Is it okay to ask what you fought over?”

“He found out I went drinking the other night with you and you stayed last night.”

Hearing that, I nearly choked. “Michael, I'm not gay.”

“I tried to tell him that I didn't think you were but he doesn't care. There was still a strange guy in my apartment that he didn't know.” His hand movements were as exaggerated as his speaking pattern as he said the sentence.

“How did he find out?”

“He came over after I got out of class and saw the sub box in the fridge. It stained the fridge shelf red.”

I was reminded of the bandages I was still sporting and the mess that I'd made over his counter top. “I guess we didn't clean up as good as we thought.” My cheeks went red with embarrassment. “I feel really awful.”

“Don't,” he replied quickly and put a hand on my shoulder. “Our relationship was failing, like I said. It was just a matter of time and, honestly, I wouldn't have gone out to the bar that night if I had any intention of preserving it.”


	11. Soft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is cute look at this chapter it's cute I tried because I really like cats okay sorry about the break here's a kitten (tumblr post: http://poohmandu.tumblr.com/post/68701117217/becoming-free-11-soft)

 Michael took me home after we stopped and bought bandages from a local drug store. We sat outside my apartment building with his car running for ten minutes discussing what we should do the next day. I asked him if he still wanted to go out since that's what got him in trouble in the first place and he said yes without hesitation. He said I was surprised I still wanted to hang out with him after finding out he was gay and I had to tell him that no matter what, he was still Michael. We decided that, as long as Miles didn't keep Michael up all night arguing, we would get lunch together and go to a pet shop looking for a kitten then go out drinking later Friday night.

After we finished talking about the next day, a silence fell between us. Michael looked at me and smiled and I smiled back, but I felt incapable of saying anything or moving.

“You sure you don't want me in your messy house?” He teased.

“I'm positive,” I answered, still smiling. “Don't take offense, I just don't think that you'd come back if you saw it.”

“Nothing could keep me away from you. And you can't keep me out forever, dude.” He moved his hand to unlock the door for me. I took it as a signal to exit the car. We said our good byes and I departed for the building.

Once I'd entered my apartment, I looked around at the mess. It was much worse than I remembered it to be. I had to do something about it. I couldn't let Lindsay eat in the disaster knowing how awful it was. I got to cleaning it right then, not even taking the time to empty my pockets and shed my coat. I gathered all the dirty laundry and put it into baskets, stacking them at the end of the hallway to eventually take to the laundromat. The clean clothes were folded and placed neatly into the dresser in my room. I cleared all of the trash out of the living room and the kitchen, putting three large bags of garbage into the dumpster in the back lot. I cleared out all the books and other things from the dining room and placed them on the dresser and shelf in my room, making sure they were all neatly organized and straight. By the time everything was the way I wanted it, it was nearing two in the morning. I walked back to my room, looking at all the things I'd put in it and thought about falling asleep on the bed, but I couldn't bring myself to climb into it. The last thing that I was able to do before I crashed on the couch was clean out the litter box and fill it with new litter.

I woke up around eleven, knowing that Michael would show up in an hour. I jumped in the shower, happy that I'd actually woken up on time. I had time to properly get ready.

Once I exited the shower, I wiped the condensation from the mirror and looked at my stubble covered face and tired eyes. The scruff on my chin had grown far too long for comfort. I opened the medicine cabinet to find a disposable razor and was met instead with the box cutter.

It chilled my hand when I took it – an odd feeling compared to the left over warmth the shower had provided. Holding it in front of my face, I pushed the blade out of the protective cover and caught my reflection in it.

My face was much different on the blade. My eyes seemed much darker and more sunk in with purple bags lining them, making the place that showed the most drowsiness the most pronounced of my features. Maybe my cheekbones were sticking out a bit more than they used to, but when I turned back to the mirror, the places where the divots of the hollows of my cheeks were were filled in by flushed flesh. The purple under my eyes was more of a darker skin tone than the harsh color they were in the reflection of the blade. I raised my hand to pinch my cheeks to make sure what I what I was seeing in the mirror was real. I couldn't tell if I was hallucinating or if the blade had some odd defect that warped the reflection.

I looked down at my arm, the scabs and stitches revealed from having to unwrap it so that the cuts could be carefully washed in the shower. The redness and swelling had gone down and the lettering was much more clear. My curiosity got the best of me as I held the blade of the box cutter against my wrist without pressure. The reflection didn't change or show any difference. I re-sheathed the blade and stuck it on the top shelf of my medicine cabinet. The image of my face that I saw in the blade worried me into thinking that I was hallucinating, but I put the thought in the back of my head. I only had time to worry about getting ready.

Once I shaved my face completely bare, I got dressed, re-bandaged my arm, and gathered the things I'd need for the day before heading down to the lobby.

“What are you doing up?” Lindsay questioned as I stepped off the elevator. Her red hair moved around her face in sync with the head shake she gave me when I smiled.

“I'll have you know, I'm getting a kitten today.” I approached the desk and leaned in her direction. Her eyes seemed to light up at the mention of the animal.

“No way!” She exclaimed excitedly. “You're gonna let me come over and see it, right?”

“Are you giving me the option?”

“Nope!” She brought a hand up to prop her chin on. “Are you gonna walk?”

“Michael is coming to get me, actually.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Gavin getting this much voluntary human interaction? You must really like this guy.”

“Yeah,” I laughed. “He's top.”

“If he's so 'top,' why don't you marry him?” She stuck her tongue out and I was tempted to grab it.

“You know I don't date guys.”

“To be fair, Gavin, you don't date anyone.”

“True, but I'm pretty sure I'm not gay.”

“He is.”

Her statement was surprising. “How did you know that?”

“He told me when he came to get you the other day and you were late.”

“Why would he tell you?” As I asked, I caught Michael's car pulling up out of the corner of my eye and I started walking towards the door, not breaking eye contact with Lindsay. “He doesn't even know you!”

“I have a habit of getting people to talk to me!”

I let out a laugh and shook me head as I walked through the first set of glass doors leading outside. She waved good bye to me as I opened the second and I heard a faint “have fun” being shouted in my direction.

The sun beat down on my face. It was a little too hot that day to take a jacket or wear long sleeves so I ended up dressing appropriately, wearing a grey t-shirt and jeans. The lack of arm coverage made me self conscious of my bandages and I fiddled with them as I crossed the empty sidewalk to climb in to Michael's car. He was patiently waiting behind the steering wheel with a smile on his face that didn't quite reach his tired eyes. I greeted him with a smile of my own.

“How'd it go last night?” I asked him as he backed out into the street.

“He wasn't there when I got back. Left a note saying he wants to meet and talk today some time.”

“Are you going to?”

“That would be the mature thing to do, wouldn't it?”

“I guess it would be, yeah.”

“Where do you want to eat?” He asked me after we'd driven down the street to the first stop light.

“I'm not actually all that hungry if that's okay.” I ran my hand over the bandages on my arm and could feel the sting of the cloth touching the wounds. He must have noticed that I was messing with the cloth because he reached over and took my left arm by the wrist and placed it at my side.

“That's fine. I can get food later today. What pet shop do you want to go to?”

“There's one not too far from here that I want to look at first.”

The drive to the pet shop was full of pop music from the radio that Michael knew all the words to. He didn't hesitate to belt every lyric with exaggerated facial expressions and head bobs. I couldn't help but giggle at how ridiculous he looked but it didn't seem to stop him. With the traffic backing us up, we got to the pet store that I bought Lloyd's food from in about fifteen minutes and they ended up not having any kittens for sale. Throughout the next two hours, we went from pet shop to pet shop in search of the perfect kitten, finding our luck to be empty with each stop. Finally, when I was about to give up, we came across a kitten that looked almost exactly like Lloyd. She was a greyish brown and striped every so often with a soft caramel color. As soon as I saw her, I knew she was the one I wanted and the feeling was multiplied when she started purring as soon as I picked her up out of the cage. She sat perfectly in both of my hands, reaching up to rub herself against my face.

She rode home in a carrier on my lap, hardly making a sound. I knew Lindsay was bound to squeal when she laid eyes on her. Michael seemed to be quite happy with the purchase, or maybe just the fact that he didn't have to stop at anymore pet stores.

“What are you going to name it?” He asked me as we pulled up to the front of my building.

“I haven't really thought of a name for her.” I looked down at the carrier and saw a paw sticking out of the front of the cage door. I put my finger on her tiny paw and she moved it too look like she was holding on to it. “I normally have weird names for my cats.”

“Understandable.” He turned off the engine and exited the car with me. I assumed that he was going to come up to my apartment with me and my heart started racing. We walked into the front doors and Lindsay was still at the front desk. A smile spread across her face when she realized it was us.

“Let me see! Let me see!” She started chanting, making grabbing motions towards the cat carrier. I put the box on the counter and Lindsay opened the door and had the kitten in her hands before I could say a word. “Oh my goodness!” She held the small animal up in front of her face nearly touching it's nose to hers. “It's adorable! Boy or girl?”

“She's a girl,” I answered her with a smile. I noticed Michael leaning on the counter beside me, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other.

“What's her name?”

“I'm still not sure.”

“Is it going to be another boy's name?”

“No, I think I'll do something different.”

“Boy's name?” Michael asked, resting his chin on his hand.

“My last cat's name was Lloyd.”

“And it was a girl,” Lindsay chimed in. She had the kitten cradled in her arms. It was chewing softly on one of her fingers.

Michael gave a sound of understanding and looked around the lobby. I watched him out of the corner of my eye. His fingers tapped on the counter repeatedly, making a small thumping sound.

Lindsay put the cat back in the carrier and closed the door. “Well, why don't you get yourself situated and I'll swing by tonight to play with her.”

“Oh, I can't tonight Linds. Michael and are going out for bevs.” Michael responded to his name being mentioned and averted his attention to me. “Isn't that right Michael?”

“As long as my meeting with Miles goes as planned, yeah.” He managed a half smile and checked his phone screen before typing furiously and shaking his head. “Lindsay, you can come. Barb too if she wants.”

“If that's okay with you, Gavin.” Lindsay looked to me with concern.

“That's completely fine. I'll call Barb and see if she's free.” I picked up the carrier from the counter and walked towards the elevator. I wasn't sure if Michael was going to follow me up and the thought had my heart racing.

“What, no good bye?” Michael teased from the counter. I turned to look at him and he was smiling at me with his phone still in his hand. “I've gotta go meet him.”

I smiled and laughed. “Good luck. I'll see you in a bit, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

With that he waved, a smirk on his lips, and turned to walk out the door. I hit the button for the elevator and waved good bye to him and Lindsay, stepping inside once the doors opened for me. The kitten meowed as soon as they shut with us inside. It sounded more like a soft whine than a meow.

“I think I'll name you Egg,” I said quietly to the kitten and she meowed again.


	12. Awful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't upload this chapter last night because of AO3 being down but it was on tumblr if you caught it (tumblr post: http://poohmandu.tumblr.com/post/68752237195/becoming-free-12-awful)

 I set up a cage with a bed and the litter box and put Egg in it with food and water. She seemed to enjoy the space much more than she did the carrier. I figured I would keep her in the cage when Michael and I went out for the evening and I wanted to make sure that keeping her in the cage wouldn't be a problem. Once she had tested the water and food, she curled up on the miniature pillow and went to sleep.

I figured that I would call Barb and see if she wanted to join us for drinks since Michael had suggested I invite her. I wasn't sure how I felt about him inviting the others to come along. It might have made for more interesting conversations since there would be more people in the party, but I couldn't help but feel uninterested in the entire outing now that Lindsay and Barb might be going. It felt odd.

I picked up the phone and punched in Barb's number.

“Hello?” Barb answered.

“Hey Barb.”

“Gavin? I didn't believe the caller I.D. when your name popped up. Usually I call you.” Her voice made it sound like she was smiling as she talked.

“Yeah, I know. You're going to be more surprised when you find out what I'm calling for.”

“Oh? And what would you be calling for exactly?”

“Did you want to go out to the bar tonight? It would be you, Lindsay, Michael, and me.”

After a pause she chimed back in. “Yeah I'm completely surprised. You're asking _me_ out to the bar this time? And you're going out with several people?”

“It seems that's how the night is playing out.”

“Well, I'm at work until nine, but I'd be more than happy to go with you, Gav.”

I couldn't help but smile at how happy she sounded, but I was still a little disappointed that she had said yes. “Great. You could just come here after your shift and we'll go from there. I think Lindsay gets off around eight.”

“Who is Lindsay?”

“The front desk lady. She pretty cool.”

“Is she anyone I should be jealous about?” She teased.

I sighed. “Just come over after work. I'm sure we'll all be waiting.”

“Okay, see you then!”

I hit end and flopped down on the couch. I brought up the front desk in my contacts and pressed dial.

“Front desk,” Lindsay's voice answered after the first ring.

“Hey, It's Gavin. Just come up here after your shift and we'll figure everything out.”

“Sounds good!”

I hung up the phone without saying good bye. I looked over to Egg's cage and she was still sleeping soundly. I decided that I would do the same and soon I drifted off to sleep.

At about seven thirty, my phone was ringing loud enough to wake me up. I picked it up off my chest where I must have left it and answered with a tired voice.

“Hello?”

“Gav!”

“Michael?”

“Yeah, how are you fucking doing?” His voice was overly happy and made me laugh.

“I'm good. What's going on?”

“Where are you at?”

“I'm at my apartment still. Where are you?”

“Oh! I'm on my fucking way.”

He hung up before I could say anything else.

I crossed the room to the cage where Egg was still sleeping. She seemed to be pretty worn out but she also may have been awake while I was sleeping. I had no way of knowing. My phone started ringing again.

“Hello?” I answered as I walked into the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror, running a hand through my hair.

“Hey, did Michael just call you?” It was Lindsay calling from the front desk.

“Yeah, why?”

“Because he just came in, drunk off his ass, and called you after talking to me.”

“That's a little troubling... I thought we were all going out together?”

“He assured me that we were. He's on his way up the elevator.”

“Did you give him the apartment number?” I asked her. Almost as if it were on queue, I heard a knocking at the door. I felt a knot form in the pit of my stomach knowing that Michael was about to see my apartment. I stepped out into the living room, checking over the space and looked for any messes that I may have missed. “Never mind. He's at my door. I wonder if he worked things out with Miles.”

“That's the thing that I think you should know, Gav,” Lindsay said, sounding stern. I crossed the room to the door and looked out the eye hole. I wasn't expecting what I saw. “Miles is with him.”

“Come up when you're off.” I ended the phone call after a silent pause and hung my head. I suddenly was not looking forward to the evening at all.

I opened the door to Michael hanging on Miles and hiding his face in his hand. Miles was trying to keep a smile on his face as Michael sank further and further down his side.

“Gavin!” Michael screamed and tried to get back to his feet.

“Hello,” I said evenly. “You must be Miles?”

“Yeah, hey.” He gave me a smile and I signaled for them to come in. “Sorry about him. He decided to start drinking early for some odd fucking reason.”

“It's alright,” I laughed nervously. I found it hard to smile while I spoke. Michael crawled from where Miles sat him on the couch over to the cage where Egg was.

“Hi little kitty,” he said as he stuck his fingers in. Egg must have been woken up by the two men coming in because she was stretching as if she was getting ready to play. She swatted at his fingers and Miles made a disgusted sound.

“Michael, don't play with the cat.”

“Miles, don't tell me what to do.”

I stopped myself from laughing when I saw Miles roll his eyes.

“Again,” He started. “Sorry for him being like this.”

“It's completely fine.” I watched Michael and Egg play through the bars of the cage. “Should we try an sober him up a bit?”

“Maybe that's a good idea.”

“Hey, Gavin.” Michael called from the floor once I'd entered the kitchen to start making him a sandwich. “I thought you said your apartment was a mess?”

“I cleaned it.” I grabbed bread from the cupboard and put together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“You cleaned you face too.”

“What?” I wasn't sure what he meant by the comment.

“Your beard is fucking gone! I saw it today but I forgot.”

“Oh. Yeah,” I answered, putting the food on a plate and grabbing a large water bottle from the fridge. “Yeah, I did.”

“It looks nice.”

Miles cleared his throat and looked at Michael with a furrowed brow. Michael seemed to ignore him entirely. I sat the food down on the coffee table. Michael was half laying under it, his feet against the couch.

“You should eat this,” I pulled his attention away from the cat and he sat up and reluctantly turned around to face the table and Miles who was sitting on the couch. Michael began eating without hesitation or question.

“When are we going out?” He asked with a mouth full of food.

“We have to wait for Barbara to show up.”

“When is that?” Miles asked.

“She gets off at nine.”

“Could she meet us at the bar? I have to study tonight.”

I was a little offended by the question. He wasn't invited, at least by me, and he was trying to change plans so my friend would miss out.

“Miles, dude. I thought you said you didn't have to fucking do anything? Why the hell are you shitting on the party?” Michael was very straight forward. I wasn't sure if it was because he was drunk and had no filter or that he was actually angry about the subject.

“Because, we agreed that I would come.” He said it through a clenched jaw, giving me a sideways glance.

Michael stuck his tongue out and I decided to chime in. “It's fine. I'll call Barb and let her know what bar. But we still need to wait until Lindsay gets off at eight.”

“That's fine,” Miles agreed. “That's only twenty minutes from now.”

I called Barbara and let her know the situation and I told her that I'd text her with the name of the bar once we got there. She seemed to be fine with it but was a little confused as to why Michael brought Miles along. I had to step out into the hallway to get the rest of the conversation without being limited in what I could say in the proximity of Miles.

“What do you mean?” I asked her when I had walked toward the elevators, making sure I was out of ear shot of my apartment door if one of the two decided they would eavesdrop.

“I mean,” She whispered. She was most likely hiding in the back of Game Stop so Ray wouldn't find her on her phone. “In class, he always said that his 'girlfriend' that I'm now understanding is a boy was the absolute worst. They never got along and the boyfriend was a dick that never trusted him with anything. He never took him anywhere. I don't get it.”

“I did catch an almost argument of Miles saying that 'they agreed he would come.'”

“Maybe Miles wants to watch you to make sure you won't hit on his man?” She ended the sentence with a series of snickers.

“I'm not going to steal anyone's man! I won't steal anyone's anything!”

“Don't get offended, Gavin. It's not my fault you want to sit on Michael's dick.”

“Barb! That's not even mildly funny.”

“It's kind of funny. Let me know what bar.”

“Sure thing,” I said in an irritated tone. I rubbed my eyes as I hung up the phone. I was not looking forward to that night. Michael was drunk. Miles was there. Barbara was going to be sassy and sarcastic like she always ended up being. Lindsay might keep me sane. At least I hoped. When I opened my eyes, Lindsay was standing in front of me.

“How rough is it?” She asked when I jumped back a bit.

“I don't want to go.”

“Gavin,” She rolled her eyes and locked an arm in mine, leading me down the hallway towards my apartment. “You can't back out now.”

“I want to. I want to kick everyone out of my apartment and sleep for a year. This is awful.”

“You'll have a great time. Trust me.”

“Whatever you say.”


	13. Sad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoooooooooooooooo (tumblr post: http://poohmandu.tumblr.com/post/68955540178/becoming-free-13-sad)

 I decided that it would be best if we walked to the nearest bar. It was still several blocks away, but Miles and I thought it would be better if Michael had an opportunity to walk some of the alcohol off. It worked better than we planned when Michael started running across every crosswalk we came to. Lindsay seemed to laugh at everything he did at first and after a block and a half of awkward silence, Miles and I laughed along. By the time we got to the bar, he was coherent enough to make a decent conversation. I texted Barbara the location and name of the bar and we quickly walked inside.

It was a small bar; there was nothing fancy about it. Most of the dining area chairs had been pulled away to make room for dancing and a DJ for the night. Miles ordered drinks for everyone but Michael who pouted and whined with an angry frown.

“I think you've had enough for a while,” Miles said with a smile. “Don't you think so, Gavin?”

The sound of my name on his lips was a little odd. “Uh... yeah.”

Lindsay looked sideways at me through her bangs. I ignored the look and sipped on the beer that was placed in front of me.

“Let's go dance!” She tugged me by the arm but I stayed firm in my seat staring straight ahead.

“Yeah, let's go fucking dance!” Michael jumped up from his seat and grabbed Lindsay's hand as she let go of me. “Miles, babe, you coming?”

“I'm fine,” Miles chuckled and took a swig of his beer. “Don't have too much fun.”

“You bet your sweet ass we will anyway,” Michael said as he turned to Lindsay.

“Fuck yeah we will!” She replied as Michael tugged her along to the dance floor where they quickly were lost in the crowd.

It was just Miles and I, sat alone at the table. I took a big gulp of my beer, trying to get as much down before he started talking to me. I was just biding my time until he asked me questions about my night with Michael and started an argument. I didn't want to start an argument. I didn't even want to be at the bar. I was so afraid of the words that were going to come out of his mouth that I almost didn't hear him started talking.

“He's so funny some times.” He had a hand perched under his chin and his elbow was propped up on the table. He watched the crowd and, presumably Michael, with a smile.

“Y-yeah.” I didn't want to say anything that might rub him the wrong way so I chose not to say much at all. I downed the rest of my beer, focusing on a spot on the table and let the world fall out around me until I was in my own head with my own thoughts.

My own thoughts may have not been the best place to retreat. I found myself thinking about killing myself again. Thinking of different methods and different ways that I could successfully go about it. The desire rose in me again and I suddenly wanted to do nothing more than go home and do just that.

I looked up from the table and saw Lindsay smiling and her red hair spinning around her face as she danced. She seemed so bright and happy as she swayed out on the dance floor. Then I saw Michael. He was just as cheerful looking, dancing in front of her and nearly tripping over his own feet. It was a humorous sight and I couldn't help but continue watching.

“So, what did you do to your arm?” Miles shifted so he was looking at me from across the table again. He nodded towards the arm that I was resting in front of me and I quickly put it out of his sight on my lap.

“I, uh... bad burn.” I couldn't find a better excuse. “I was cooking and ya' know.” My head was pounding and my heart was thumping. “I'm gonna get another drink.”

I got up from my seat without waiting for Miles to respond or acknowledge that I was leaving and I climbed on top of a bar stool across the room. A couple moments later I turned to see that Miles had left his place at the table and gotten up to join Lindsay and Michael on the dance floor. I ordered another beer that was on tap and tried to enjoy it quietly.

Why had I even agreed to go out? I wasn't one for being social or enjoyable in public. I wasn't known for being enjoyable at all, in fact. The only reason I said yes was because Michael had asked me to and Lindsay wouldn't let me back out. The evening wouldn't have been spent any better if I would have stayed at home. I could have been dead for all I knew. I could have stayed home and offed myself instead of going out and wanting to off myself. I thought about how different everything would be after I died. Lindsay would probably take Egg. Before I could think anymore on the subject, I felt a hand on my shoulder. When I looked over, I saw Michael smiling at me and taking his seat next to me.

“Why aren't you dancing? Even Miles pulled the fucking stick out of his ass.” His dimples were very apparent under the bar light.

I couldn't manage to make a sound and instead I shrugged my shoulders and sipped from my glass.

Michael leaned in close, his hand still on my shoulder. He shook his smile and his voice was serious. “Are you okay?”

I tilted my head towards him and tried my best to smile. “I'm fine,” was all I could manage to say before Barb came up on the other side of me.

“Dude!” She shouted, hugging me. “Traffic is insane!”

“It's Friday, Barb!” Michael leaned forward.

“I didn't expect it to be this bad around here. How are you, Michael?”

“I'm alright, I'm alright. You?”

“I'm great now that it's the weekend!”

The conversation was so simple and casual yet I couldn't help but feel weird about it. I would never have started a conversation like that.

“What have you two been up to?” She asked, keeping one arm around my shoulders.

“Just sitting here,” Michael answered her when I made no indications of speaking. He tapped his fingers against the counter and shook my shoulder with the other hand. “Lindsay and Miles are out dancing.”

“Oh, shit! I just _have_ to meet Lindsay.” She gave me a kiss on the cheek and put her lips dangerously close to my ear. I heard a barely audible whisper. “I'll leave you two alone.”

“She's the one with the crazy awesome red hair. By the way, Barb, Miles is my-”

“I know,” She leaned away from me and smiled. “I'll be on the dance floor if you need me.” With that she walked off and joined Lindsay and Miles. They were standing near the front of the crowd and both sported big smiles when Barbara started to dance with them.

“Ya' know,” Michael started, sitting backwards on his stool so he could see the group. “It's nights like these that I remember why I fell in love with him.”

“Yeah?” I asked, hardly interested in the subject.

“Yeah. I wish I could go back to those days.” He turned in his chair and ordered a beer when the bartender came around. “I wish I could feel like I did when we met my second year.”

“Oh?” I wished that he would go away but he just kept going on. I really wanted to be alone but was finding no relief.

“Yeah. I wish I could figure out a way to leave him too.”

I didn't respond to the comment and let him take his beer in hand and take a big swig. His eyes were fixed on something on the wall that I couldn't find with my own eyes.

“Instead I get drunk and hope I forget about him,” he broke the silence, laughing as if it would make the sentence any lighter. He gulped down the rest of his beer and stood up from his stool, starting to wander off towards the door. “I'll be outside if you need me.”

I sulked at the bar for a little while more after that. Eventually Barbara approached me to find that I'd drank four beers in the time she was gone and I was on the verge of being drunk.

“I knew I'd be the driver tonight,” She said in a disappointed tone. She shook her head and placed a hand on my back.

“What,” I laughed. “You're not gonna hook up with some guy tonight?”

She raised her eyebrows. “You should stop talking before I make you.”

I shut my mouth after she gave me a serious look. She took my good arm and slung it over her shoulders and stood me up carefully. I felt very unsteady and was positive I was falling with every wobbly step. Barb led me out the door without a problem and Lindsay followed closely behind us. When we hit the sidewalk, it was like a blast of fresh air smacked me in the face. It was so different than the stuffy atmosphere of the bar and the noise was much more dissipated. The only conversation I could hear was that of a man yelling angrily and another yelling a little differently nearby. I knew something was wrong by the way Lindsay and Barbara looked at each other but I was incapable of acting as they did. Barb set me on the ground, leaning me against a wall as Lindsay ran off around a corner.

“I'll be right back, Gav. Don't move.” She, too, ran off in the direction Lindsay went.

I couldn't stop my curiosity from kicking in. I rose to my feet as quickly as I could without falling over. When I was steady enough to walk forward, I followed the outside wall of the bar with my hand in the direction Lindsay and Barbara had ran. I couldn't move fast but I was making progress. When I was almost there, I fell and hit my knee off the concrete sidewalk, ripping my jeans in the process. Cursing under my breath, I rose to my feet and walked just far enough to make it around the corner where I found an interesting and confusing scene.

Miles was backed against a wall by Barbara who was screaming in his face, waving a finger and looking furious. Lindsay was further down the ally kneeling on the ground beside a slumped over figure that I assumed was Michael. They were much further away, almost at the opposite entrance of the alley.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Barbara shouted as she turned towards me and started walking, surprised when I was standing in her view.

“You piece of shit,” Miles mumbled as he started approaching Barbara. My heart started to race when I realized that she hadn't heard what he said. I thought she was going to get punched and I reached out toward her and slurred out for her to move. She looked confused and turned around to see Miles coming at her and she moved out of his way. Instead of stopping to go at Barb, however, Miles continued to walk straight past her and didn't stop walking until his fist collided with my jaw.


	14. Bruised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep listening to the RWBY soundtrack and I've had a rough day with car troubles and junk but this is a pretty good product I think (Tumblr Post: http://poohmandu.tumblr.com/post/69141024671/becoming-free-14-bruised)

 I don't remember hitting the ground but I knew I must have. I woke up in Michael's arms. He was cradling me like a bride much like he did when he took me to bed the night we got drunk and he told me the story about princess Gavino. My head was throbbing on the left side and my jaw was sore on the right. I looked up at Michael's face as we walked and he seemed to have a few cuts and bruises of his own, one encompassing his left eye socket. I didn't make a sound to alert anyone that I was awake. Barb and Lindsay were walking along side him, chatting about what happened.

“I can't believe that Miles punched him,” Lindsay said, shaking her head from side to side.

“I thought he was coming for me when I turned and didn't even think about Gavin.” Barbara was out of my sight.

“Gavin hit the ground pretty hard too.”

“Right? I'm surprised he only got a few scrapes on his face. I was expecting a split skull.”

“He's a tough one,” Lindsay said as she looked my way. I quickly closed my eyes and pretended like I was still out.

“I've never seen anyone get up so fast either.” I could hear Barbara's pace pick up with the tone of her voice. “Are you okay, Michael?”

“Yeah, Miles had you down for a long time,” Lindsay chimed in. “How did you manage to get up so quick when Gavin went down?”

“I just did.” Michael's voice was soft. I could feel his chest vibrate against me as he talked. “I really don't want to talk about it. I just want to get back and make sure injuries are tended to.”

When we reached Barbara's car, someone opened the back door for Michael. He placed me gently in the back seat and put on my seat belt, closing the door when he'd finished. The other side of the back seat opened and he scooted himself across the seat until he was nearly touching me. I almost couldn't tell if it was him or Lindsay until I caught the smell of beer and cologne.

“Do you think we should take him to the hospital?” Barb asked from the front of the car. I decided I would open my eyes and make it known that I didn't need medical attention. Michael leaned back on the seat causing me to sink into his side.

“I don't need to,” I said without changing my position.

“He's awake,” Lindsay said with a relieved sigh.

“Are you sure, Gav?” Barbara said, starting the car. Michael put an arm around me and rubbed my shoulder, making me lean against him even more. I ended up being snuggled against his shoulder when Barbara turned around. “You took quite a punch and you're still pretty drunk.”

“Quit nagging!” I said with an irritated tone. It must have come out slurred because both the ladies in the front seat started to giggle.

“Okay!” Barbara answered, holding back a laugh. “You look pretty comfy anyway.”

I groaned at her as she put the car in reverse and we began to drive. Lindsay began to give Barb instructions on how to get to her house and I tuned out their conversation entirely. I didn't want to move. I felt like the world outside the car was moving much faster than my thoughts could process and my head throbbed even more trying to focus on buildings and people against the black of night. I blinked the pain away and stared at the back of the seat in front of me.

I felt Michael lean his head down once we pulled up to Lindsay's place. His forehead was resting against the top of my head and I could feel his breath on my ear like I had felt Barbara's earlier in the night. His curls brushed against my forehead. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, low enough so I was the only one that heard. I didn't say anything, but I felt it necessary to lean my head against him so he knew that I didn't care. I didn't know what he was sorry for, but I didn't want him to feel bad. He stiffened up underneath me at first then slowly let the tension go.

“Gav,” Barbara got my attention after we were back on the road and down one person.

“Yeah?” I asked without moving.

“Do you want to crash at my place with Michael?”

“Why is Michael staying with you?”

“I don't want to stay alone after everything that happened,” Michael said in a hushed tone.

“I have to go home because Egg is all alone.”

“Why are you worried about an egg?” Barbara laughed.

“Is that really what you named her?” Michael's voice seemed a little more cheerful.

“It's my cat and yes.” I paused to let them laugh at my choice of name. I thought about what I'd heard from the conversation earlier and pieced together what must have happened. Michael was hit by Miles and went down when Barbara and Lindsay came around the corner. Barbara told off Miles while Lindsay must have moved Michael away to make sure he was okay. Then I came around the corner and Miles came after me for some reason. It was implied that Michael saw me go down and immediately either checked to see if I was okay or to go after Miles.

I was proud of how much I was able to piece together because Barbara was correct, I was still very drunk.

“That's the most ridiculous name I've ever heard,” Michael chuckled and rested his head on mine. He seemed to keep cuddling closer and closer to me and I couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable. I stretched, casually breaking away from him.

“Maybe we should all stay at your place then, Gav?” Barbara suggested. “It could be like a big sleep over.”

“I don't really have a place to put you two,” I answered. Surprisingly, I wasn't bothered by the question and humored the thought of Michael and Barbara sleeping in my tiny apartment. All I knew was that I wanted to go to sleep and that there really wasn't anywhere they could sleep that wasn't on the floor or in my bed.

“What about the couch?” Michael asked, leaning away from me in the back seat. I wondered if I'd been too abrupt with my stretch.

“I sleep on the couch.”

“Why do you sleep on the couch?” I could see Barbara's eyes shooting me a confused look in the rear view mirror. “I distinctly remember mattress shopping with you a couple months ago.”

“I don't like my room.”

“Hey,” Michael laughed. “I'll take the bed. You and Barb can share the couch.”

“No way!” Her voice sounded playfully offended. “If I'm sharing with anyone, it's gonna be in the bed.”

Michael and Barbara continued to argue back and forth on what the sleeping arrangements would be for the entire drive to my apartment building. They both exited the car when we had parked, even though I had never said that they could stay. I decided to allow them to, wanting to avoid an awkward conversation. Michael came around to my side of the car where I had opened the door and was attempting – and failing – to exit properly. He slung my arm around his shoulders and led me up to my apartment, never straying more than an inch from me.

Once we'd entered, Barbara wanted to make sure that all of our cuts were clean. Apparently I had some impact damage from the fall and Michael had a cut on his cheek bone with a matching black eye where he must have been punched along with a few other small scrapes on his hands.

“I can handle it, Barbara,” Michael protested when Barb tried to lead us into the bathroom. Instead, he sat me down on the closed toilet and shut the door in Barb's face, locking it behind him.

“You are such a brat, Michael Jones,” She shouted playfully.

“I know,” was all that Michael replied with. He turned to me and a wry smile was spread across his face.

“You think you're a cheeky bastard, don't you?” I asked as he knelt down in front of me.

“Of course I do. It's kind of my fucking thing, if you haven't noticed.” His hands went to work, undoing the bandages on my arm. “I thought if we change these now,” his tone was suddenly more serious. “Then Barb won't find out.”

The television was on in the other room, meaning that Barb was already far away from the door. I heard her smooth voice talking to my kitten and calling it by names other than Egg, most of them food related.

“Damn, Gav.” I looked down to what Michael was doing. The inside of my bandages were spotted with blood. “You've got to be more careful. You could bust your stitches out.”

I chuckled. “What does it matter?”

“What do you mean?” He got up to get a washcloth from the sink and wet it under the faucet.

“I don't think you understand fully why I did it in the first place.” He returned to his spot on the floor in front of me and wiped down my arm, making sure that all the crusted blood was cleaned off. He made sure to do it as gently as possible while still getting the job done.

“I understand, believe me, I do.”

“Then why don't you understand why it doesn't matter? It doesn't matter if I bleed. It doesn't matter if it heals. It doesn't matter if I'm careful. I am still going to die.”

“You still want to?” He looked up at me over his glasses that I noticed he had a crack through one of the lenses.

“Why would I not?”

“Why would you?”

I threw my head back and sighed. He grabbed the bandages from the back of the toilet and took out a length, wrapping it properly around my arm again. “I don't know... peace?”

He didn't respond to that. He continued to wrap until the cuts were completely covered then moved on to my face, wiping the same washcloth over the scrapes by my brow bone. He put some kind of liquid that he pulled out of my cupboard in the wound and it stung so bad that it made me flinch. Once he'd finished taking care of me, he moved on to himself, cleaning his cuts as well. He washed his hands and unlocked the door looking to me to see if I would be able to walk by myself. I stood up as he opened it and he helped me out to the couch when I started to wobble. Barbara was sitting with Egg snuggled into her lap. I sat down beside her and Egg perked her ears up, crossing over to my lap after a stretch and a meow. Michael sat on the other side of me, all three of us hardly fitting on the small couch.

We fell asleep there, each leaning on each other. At some point Barbara got a blanket to spread over all of us, but we stayed in those positions on the couch the entire night.


	15. Quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Sorry this took so damn long <3 (tumblr post: http://poohmandu.tumblr.com/post/69458982730/becoming-free-15-quiet)

 The next morning I woke up with both Michael and Barbara resting their heads on my shoulders. As soon as I opened my eyes, my head was throbbing and I felt an intense urge to vomit. I got up as quickly as I could, not having the time to be wary of the two sleeping on either side of me, and ran towards the bathroom. I barely made it to the toilet before I was dry heaving. I was hit with the harsh reality that I hadn't had anything to eat the previous day and the first thing I put into my stomach was beer which was sure to have been pissed out by that point.

I saw the shadow of someone in the bathroom doorway and after I got the tiniest bit of liquid up, I craned my neck to see Michael watching with a sad look on his face. He crossed the room to me and sat on the edge of the bathtub behind me.

“You okay?” He questioned as he rubbed a hand over my back.

I gulped, trying to wet my dry throat enough to talk. “Could you get me some water?” I managed to scratch out. My throat felt raw.

“Already on it,” Barbara entered with a glass of water and set it down beside me.

I drank it slowly, turning to face Michael so I could lean on the toilet.

“You had a fuck ton to drink last night.” I looked up at Michael as I drank and observed his bruised eye. The purple color was already faded except for the area around the cut towards the top of his cheek bone.

I pulled the cup away from my mouth to speak. “I feel like death.”

Barbara chuckled but Michael didn't seem to be amused by the comment. “Next time, we'll prepare for such a light weight,” She teased, stepping into the bathroom and joining Michael on the edge of the tub.

“I'm not a light weight!” I protested. “I just forgot to eat yesterday.”

“Gav.” Barbara looked angry. “How do you forget to eat?”

“I don't know,” I looked away from her, taking another sip from the cup.

“Weren't you hungry?” She persisted.

I didn't say anything but I gave her a shrug. Having something in my stomach made it settle a bit and once I felt confident in my ability to keep the water down, I got up and left the bathroom. Egg walked up to my feet and meowed until I picked her up. She purred against my chest and rubbed herself against my chin and I couldn't help but smile, despite my head and stomach aches. Michael walked past me into the kitchen and began looking through my cabinets, pulling out a bowl and a box of cheerios, opening the box and pouring some into the dish. He went to the fridge and grabbed the milk and poured it over top of the cereal. He noticed I was watching him when he looked up after putting the lid on the milk.

“Eat this.” He left the bowl on the counter and crossed to the door, slipping on his shoes. Barbara was soon to follow. “I've got to go make sure my apartment isn't destroyed.”

“Yeah, I'm gonna drop him off.” She began putting on her shoes as well. Michael patiently waited as she tied them. “Are you gonna be alright for the day?”

“I'll be fine,” I assured them. I put Egg down and walked to the kitchen so I could grab the bowl of cereal Michael had made me.

“I'll call you later,” Michael smiled just before they both walked out the door, shutting it behind them.

Again I was left alone in my apartment. I sat on the couch and ate my cereal, pushing Egg away when she got too close. I didn't turn on the television and I didn't listen to the radio. I didn't read a book or change or shower. I sat there, much like I always did, wishing I had the energy or the motivation to get up and apply myself.

I sat like that all of Saturday and most of Sunday until I started smelling myself, at which point I got up to take a shower and change my bandages. I almost forgot about the cuts on my face and was a little shocked when I looked in the mirror. My jaw was black and blue on the underside of my jaw where Miles had punched me.

I had completely forgotten about Miles up until that point and had even forgotten about Michael. I remembered that he said he was going to call me the previous night. I picked up my phone to check for missed calls and was instead met with a black screen. The phone had long since died but I couldn't help but wonder just how long it had been dead. I plugged it in during my shower to give it some power and when I powered it on, I found I had three voice mails.

They were all from Michael and I listened to them one by one.

“Hey, It's Michael. It's 7:30 and I was just calling to check up on you and make sure you were okay. It looks like your phone's dead. I'll call back later.”

“Hey, me again. I texted Lindsay after I left the last voice mail and she said she hadn't seen you at all. I just want to make sure you're still doing fine but you still haven't charged your fucking phone.” The smile was apparent in his voice. “Whenever you get this call me. I'm going to bed for the night since it's pretty late, but I'll call again tomorrow.”

“Hey. I can't believe your phone is still fucking dead. Hope you're doing fine. It's about 4 pm and I'm debating coming to make sure you're alright. Barbara keeps texting me saying she can't get in contact with you and it's really freaking her out. Uh, I guess just call me when you get this but if I don't hear from you by six, I'm probably gonna come and fucking beat your ass because, god damn, why can't you just charge your phone?”

I looked through the miscellaneous messages that Barbara had sent me. Most of them were checking to see if I was alright. She didn't seem to leave me any voice mails, but there were about five text messages.

The time read 5:43 pm and I figured I should send Barb a text and give Michael a call.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Michael answered the phone in an irritated tone.

“Sorry, lad. Seems I forgot about my phone.” I added a chuckle at the end.

“For a day? I haven't heard from you since I last saw you!”

“I'm really sorry.” I wrapped my towel around my waist and exited the bathroom to fall onto the couch.

“I was seriously about ready to drive over,” His tone started to lighten.

“I know. I'm so sorry. It just completely slipped my mind.”

“It's fine,” He finally sounded like he was letting it go. “What have you been doing all this time?”

“Just being lazy and sitting around.” Egg jumped onto the couch and sat on my stomach, staring at me with big eyes.

“Sounds like a pretty chill time.”

“Yeah,” I paused, reaching out a hand to pat the cat on the head. “Did Miles end up destroying your apartment?” I tried to start a conversation.

“Nah. It looks like he was never here but he did grab some of his clothes that were in my room. I still need to go over and get my stuff but I'm not comfortable going alone.”

“I wouldn't after last night. Maybe I could go for support some time?” I thought about my sore jaw.

“That's not a good idea. I don't want Miles to jump on you again.”

“Why did he punch me in the first place?”

“I... I'm not really sure.”

There was an awkward silence as I waited for him to go on but it seems like he didn't plan on continuing. “Hmm,” I contemplated. “Well, I'll let you go.”

“Oh, yeah. That's fine. Maybe we can hang out some time this week?”

“Honestly, Michael,” I ran a hand through my damp hair. “I need a bit of a rest after friday night. I haven't gone out this much in months and I'm kind of worn out.”

“S-sure. I understand. Just, uh,” he let out a sigh. “Call me if you want to talk or need anything, alright?”

“Alright, I'll be sure to. Take care, Michael.”

“You too, Gavin.”


	16. Worrisome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is hella long (tumblr post: http://poohmandu.tumblr.com/post/69564110296/becoming-free-16-worrisome)

 The next few days were spent the same as my weekend alone. I sat around on the couch, hardly moving. I didn't text or call anyone, nor did anyone try to contact me. Lindsay came up on Tuesday after her shift to cook us food and we sat around for about an hour watching The Price is Right on the Game Show Network. Once she left, I turned off the television and went to bed on the couch with Egg curled up on my chest, sleeping just as soundly as I did.

When I woke up on Wednesday, I felt like my mood had drastically taken a fall. I stared at the ceiling for three hours before I could even force myself to get up. It didn't take very long at all, however, to decide that I wasn't going to be moving the rest of the day. I sat back down on the couch and looked down at my arm, fiddling with the bandages. I stayed there until about 3 am on Thursday morning, contemplating suicide until my brain was too worn out to stay awake.

I was up and moving by 7 am and the first thing I did was take a shower. The stitches in my arm had completely either dissolved or fallen out and those that didn't, I took out myself. The cuts were nothing but raised red lines, clearly spelling out the word, but the scabs had disappeared entirely. I didn't see a point in wrapping my arm back up so I let it be. I felt even worse than the previous day, the fact that I was running on four hours of sleep making it even harder to avoid terrible thoughts. They hadn't been that bad in a while and the emptiness was almost unbearable.

After putting Egg in her cage, I put on a jacket and headed out the door. Realizing that Lindsay would most likely be on her shift, I used the back entrance to avoid speaking to her. I was not in the mood to see anyone and I didn't want her to worry about me.

When I stepped outside, I realized that it was far too hot for a coat. I shrugged mine off and hung it over my arm, hiding the scars. I didn't think that I'd care if anyone saw them but I also didn't want to have to deal with the judgmental stares from strangers I didn't know. I had a lot on my mind and didn't need something unnecessary to be piled on top of the thoughts that were already filling it. Filling it to the brim, in fact. They were practically overflowing from me and I was trying not to cry or scream the whole time I was walking about. I was used to feeling that way everyday of my life for years, it was just different that day.

I couldn't explain what made it different. Maybe it was the fact that I was feeling better since the last time I tried to kill myself. But was I really feeling better? Or was it just masked because I was forcing myself to be happy? Could it be that hanging out with friends actually made me forget about all the problems that made it hard to live everyday life? There was no way it could have replaced it, or I wouldn't have slipped back into it so easy. I remembered thinking for a split second that if I were with someone all the time, maybe I would stop feeling the way I did. Of course that was followed by, “But what if I get used to them being around and slip into this train of thought even with them around?” I couldn't bear the thought of doing that to anyone. I knew I would rather be alone and suffer so no one else had to watch or suffer with me.

I walked around the city hours and hours after the sun went down, looking at my phone every so often. Lindsay had tried to call me three times at around 8 pm. I assumed she had gone up to my apartment and found that I wasn't home. I turned my phone on airplane mode so I wouldn't be bothered by notifications.

It was about midnight when I found myself too tired to walk. I was crossing a bridge that I wasn't familiar with and I had no idea where I was. I hadn't been paying attention to my surroundings and nothing around me gave any indication of where I was. I leaned my elbows up against the edge of the bridge and looked out over the river it was crossing. There was a wind coming off of it that made me reach for my coat that should have been on slung over my arm. When I realized it wasn't there, it made sense that I must have dropped it.

I put my head in my hands, but not before catching a glimpse of my scars on my arm against the river below.

_What if I just jumped?_

I'd been thinking about death for two days straight. I couldn't help but think that I could try on the bridge. The impact wouldn't kill me unless there were rocks below. The water was warm and I could tell by the smell the river was giving off. I could plan on sinking down and inhaling as much water as I could and then let myself go. It could have worked.

But I couldn't bring myself to do it. I started shaking and hyperventilating and the scariest of all, crying. I wanted to, but I couldn't and I didn't know why. I'd never had a reaction like I did that night. I sank to my feet and turned around to lean against the concrete wall of the bridge. I kept my face in my hands and continued to cry until I couldn't anymore and when I checked my phone, it was 1 am.

There was no way I'd be able to walk home. My legs were tingling and I couldn't gather myself to stand up. Not to mention the wind was cold and coming in at full force. I didn't even know where I was. I did the only thing I could think to do and switched my phone out of airplane mode. I was immediately greeted with 4 voice mails, one from Lindsay and three from Michael.

“Hey, Gavin! I tried to swing by your place and you weren't there and I tried to call, but it rang and rang. What's up with that, dude? I told you I was gonna come over tonight. You can't just ditch me you butt!” Her tone made no indication of anger towards me. “I'll try calling one more time and if you don't answer, I'm gonna assume you're with Michael.” I had completely forgotten that Lindsay said she was going to stop by on Thursday when she stopped in Tuesday. I felt guilty that I'd ditched her.

“Hey, Gav. Sounds like your phone's dead again, huh? Lindsay just called me to check if you were with me. Said she went to your place and your door was unlocked but you were nowhere to be found and you guys were supposed to hang out tonight. She called me to see if we were together but I said I hadn't heard from you and now we're both kind of worried. I'm gonna call Barb here in a minute and if she hasn't heard from you, I'm really going to start to worry.”

“Gav, Barb hasn't heard from you and we can't think of anyone else that would have. I'm here with Lindsay now and she said that your phone was ringing when she called earlier and now neither of us are getting through. I guess your phone is dead or off or something but seriously man, we're just sitting around here thinking of where you could be and we're really, really worried. If you get this before we find you, please call one of us. Lindsay has to go home so she can work tomorrow, but, please, just let us know you're alright.” By the end of the message, my crying had started back up. How could I have been so stupid as to let people in and have them care about me when I was such a worthless wreck of a human being?

I stood up again, stepping up onto the railing of the bridge and dangling my feet over the edge after taking a seat. I thought about falling in but stopped myself before listening to the last voice mail Michael had left me.

“Dude, Gavin. Where are you? I've been sitting in your apartment waiting for you to get home ever since Lindsay left but you're still not here and I'm so scared that something happened to you or you did something to yourself. I didn't know that Lindsay didn't know anything about your suicide attempts. I didn't tell her anything but I could tell by the way she was talking that she had no idea. I'm so worried about you.”

I was sobbing at that point. I couldn't stand the thought of making Michael worry like that. I wished that I'd have jumped before I listened to the voice mails. Before I knew what I was doing, Michael was on the other line.

“What the fuck, Gavin? Where the fuck are you?” He practically screamed through the phone.

“M-Michael, I'm so sorry.”

“Are you crying? Where are you? What the fuck is wrong?”

“I d-don't know... where I am. I'm on a bridge...”

“A bridge? Gavin, please do not fucking tell me you're going to fucking jump. Please do not tell me that.”

“I-”

“Promise me you won't,” He said in an almost whisper. I could hear a door close over the speaker.

“I can't promise.”

There was a long pause and then a slam followed by the bell for the elevator in my building that was so familiar to me. “Where are you?” I could tell he was clenching his teeth.

“I don't kn-”

“Describe it.” He said it calmly but I could tell he was still angry. The bell of the elevator was in the background again and he didn't say anything as his feet tapped quickly over the linoleum of the front lobby.

I looked around, wiping the tears out of my eyes. “Th-there's a park, I think. There aren't many cars...”

“What direction did you walk?”

“I-I think,” I paused, thinking of the direction I took when I left my building. I heard his car door open and he fiddled with his keys. “I know I w-walked past the one coffee shop.”

“What one? There are a million coffee shops.” His car started and I heard the squeal of his tires.

“The one you took me to.”

“Okay.” He paused, letting out a sigh before he started talking again. “Is the bridge over a river?”

“Y-yes,” I sniffled, continuing to cry. I tried not to make any noises that would indicate I was, but I wasn't doing a very good job.

“It's okay, Gav. What do you see over the river?”

“There's a skyscraper in the distance. Th-there's a flag pole closer than that.”

“I think I know where you are. I'm coming to get you, okay?”

“No!” I protested. “Just let me die, Michael.”

“Please don't say shit like that. You're not going to die.”

“What if I jumped right now? I could die and disappear down the river before you even get here.”

“Can you at least talk to me? What happened?”

“What do you mean what happened?” I was nearly screaming, tears still running down my face. “Life happened.”

“I mean, did anything in particular happen? Why were you out walking around?”

“I couldn't stop thinking! I'm so full of thoughts and I'm always thinking. I never stop thinking.”

“What were you thinking about?” His voice was calm and it sounded sincere.

“Death. Dying. What do I always think of?”

“Why do you think of all of that, though?”

“Because I want to die!” I was in hysterics, almost losing my balance.

“Gavin, if you really wanted to die, you wouldn't have called me crying. That's why I'm on my way.”

“I-I don't follow...”

“You need someone, and I'm coming to get you.”

“How do you figure, though.”

“If you wanted to die, you would have done it without calling me. Please, Gavin. Just hang in there a few minutes. I'm literally one fucking block away.”

I turned my head to look down the road towards the park. I had to blink away tears that kept coming and streaming down my cheeks, but I could see headlights approaching quickly.

“You weren't even that far away.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want to help you.”

I felt like my heart stopped beating. “Why?” My crying picked up as his car crossed the change in pavement onto the bridge. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care about you.” He stopped his car off to the side and left it running, making sure his hazards were on before he exited the vehicle and hung up the phone. “Where's your jacket?” He asked, coming towards me, still sitting on the rail. “It's fucking freezing out here.”

“I-I don't know...” I paused to think about where I could have possibly dropped it but came up with nothing. “I dropped it somewhere.”

He came up beside me and crossed his arms, resting them on the railing. He looked out over the river and lowered his chin to his arms.

“Are you okay?” He asked me.

“N-not really. You didn't have to come out here.”

“Yes I did,” he said flatly. “You could have died.”

“I still could.”

He looked to me and rolled his eyes, moving behind me then wrapping both his arms around my waist.

“Michael, what are you-” He pulled me backwards off the rail and as he tried to drag me away from it, I grabbed onto the railing with both hands. It didn't take him long to overpower me.

“Sorry, Gav, I'm forcibly removing you from the situation.”

“You can't just... You have to let me go. I want to die,” I cried, trying to pull myself out of his grip. “I want to die.” I started kicking, trying to get away from him but he didn't seem to flinch. After a couple minutes of struggling, I was out of breath and gave up. I wasn't able to stop tears from coming.

“I'm sorry,” He said, setting my feet on the ground. He quickly swung me up so he was carrying my bridal style yet again. I didn't struggle and allowed myself to be taken to his car. He strapped me in to the passenger seat and shut the door then crossed to his side, hopping in the driver's seat then taking off down the road. I avoided looking at him. “I'm sorry, Gavin. I couldn't think of how to talk you out of it.”

“You're an ass hole.”

“I know. I tried not to be.”

“Sod off.” I angrily placed my elbow on the window edge and propped my hand against my cheek after wiping away the salty water still falling from my eyes.

We were quiet the rest of the ride back to my apartment building. I knew that he wasn't going to drop me off then leave and that thought was reassured when he pulled into a parking spot and turned off the car. I exited as soon as I could unlock the door and threw myself onto the sidewalk. He walked behind me as I stormed into the building, the front desk man hardly paying any attention to us. We entered the elevator and I leaned up against the wall as Michael waited for the doors to close. When they did he turned to me and gave me an empty smirk, at which I looked away.

When the elevator stopped on my floor, I exited by shoving past Michael though he didn't seem to mind when my shoulder collided with his. We both entered my apartment after I unlocked the door and as I was going to walk down the hallway and hide away in my room, he grabbed me lightly by the wrist and called my name.

I stopped in my tracks and turned to him. His glasses were no longer cracked and the bruise was turning green on his cheek. Freckles surrounded the cut there and his eyes seemed glossy. He didn't say anything, but instead started crying and pulled me into his chest. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and stuck his face into my neck. I didn't know how to react until he started talking.

“I'm so sorry, Gavin. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't let you die. I couldn't let you die. Please don't be mad at me. Please don't be mad.”

I found my arms wrap around his back. “I'm not mad at you, Michael. It's okay. I'm sorry for making you worry.”

“I couldn't let you die.”

“I know.”

“I couldn't-”

“Michael,” I pulled away and called his name. He looked up, rubbing his fingers into his eye under his glasses. “Do you want to watch a movie and settle down for the night?” I suggested. I figured it would be a good way for both of us to calm down.

He whispered, “Okay,” and I led him to the couch then crossed the floor to the entertainment center where I pulled out a stack of DVDs.

“I've got all of these.” I spread them out on the coffee table in front of him. “The Avengers, Indiana Jones, Back to the Future, The Terminator, Ferris Bu-”

“What's this one?” he held up a DVD with a man leaning against a street sign and a girl standing beside him, holding out her thumb like a hitch hiker.

“Wristcutters?” The title of the movie made me look at my arm and Michael must have thought of the same thing because I saw his neck crane the same direction out of the corner of my eye. It was ironic that I owned the movie and gave me a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach after reading the title. Of course, I'd seen it before. I just wasn't sure how Michael would react to the content. “It's some indie movie from Sundance, I think.”

“Is it good?”

“It's pretty good.”

“Let's watch that.”


	17. Deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DMX DMX DMX DMX (you guys probably think I'm psychotic with all these weird ass author's notes. (tumblr post: http://poohmandu.tumblr.com/post/69855361595/becoming-free-17-deep)

 During the movie we were sitting next to each other on the couch, sharing a blanket to keep us warm in my slightly chilly apartment. Egg came to join us, curling into my lap. At some point, Michael had moved closer to pet her softly on the head, scratching behind her ears. Michael ended up staying close to me and our shoulders were nearly touching. I knew it was getting late but I had no desire to go to bed and by the looks of it, neither did he. He seemed so enthralled by the movie when I looked to sneak a glance at his facial expressions during certain parts. I couldn't help but laugh when he made serious faces but when _he_ laughed, I couldn't contain my smile.

By the time the movie had ended, the air inside the living room was freezing. We searched to make sure all of the vents were open and the heat was on, but the temperature on the thermostat wouldn't go up. All the windows were closed and so was the door. The mystery couldn't be solved.

“I think I have an electric space heater,” I thought aloud as I rummaged through the closet in my bedroom. It was the first time since I'd put everything back in their places that I'd returned to the room and it was even colder than the living room since the door was shut for so long. I heard Michael enter the room behind me just as a found what I was looking for. I turned and pulled out the space heater.

“I think that'll work. We won't both fit on the couch, though,” he said as he rubbed his arms, trying to generate some heat for himself.

“What do you mean?” I looked at him with a confused stare.

“I mean,” he approached, taking the heater from my hands. He crossed the room to plug it in to the far wall, turning it on full blast as soon as the light came on. “We can only heat one space with this. The bed is much more ideal for two people.”

“I guess you're right.”

As the room heated up, I gathered Egg in her cage and moved the entire thing into the bedroom so she wouldn't have to suffer in the cold. After I set that down, I went around the apartment and made sure all the lights were turned off as well as the Television. When I entered the room, I was met with a blast of warm air. Michael was sprawled out on the bed on top of the covers and I giggled as I examined his pleased expression as he hung his head off the end of the bed.

“It feels fucking fantastic in here,” He said, opening his eyes and looking at me. He had already removed his glasses and placed them on the night stand and his brown eyes seemed a little more golden than they had before. He flipped over on to his stomach and freed half the bed for me as I shut the door. “What's the hold up?” He asked when I lingered in the center of the room.

“Nothing,” I answered quickly.

He looked at me questioningly. “No, really. What's up?

“It's just,” I ran my eyes over the comforter of the bed and the pillow cases that matched, following the striped pattern until I was met with Michael's leg. I looked away when I met his eyes. “I've never slept in my bed.”

“Really?”

“I always sleep on the couch.”

“It's pretty fucking comfortable. You'll want to sleep here when you lay on it.”

“I don't know...”

“Shut off the lights and come to bed, you idiot,” He teased.

I flipped the switch and did as he said, sitting on the edge of the bed with my legs hanging off and then slowly easing myself backwards so my head was resting on the left pillow.

“See?” Michael turned himself so he was laying on the pillow to the right of me, propping an elbow and resting his fist on his cheek, making it so he was laying on his side.

I sank in to the softness of the pillow and let out a sigh, putting both my hands behind my head. “It's pretty top.”

“Damn right. It's not some scary fucking monster.”

I laughed at that and we sat in silence for a while. I closed my eyes when I heard Michael laugh. “What?” I asked him in a jokingly confrontational manner.

“I was thinking about the movie. How they thought it would be romantic to sleep on the beach, and they woke up in a condom-covered shit hole.”

I tried to remember a quote from the scene. “'This is where intravenous drug users and prostitutes congregated and it was too revolting for them.'”

He chuckled. “I'm glad we watched that movie.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “It's a good one.”

“Yeah,” he sighed and I felt the bed move beneath me. I opened one eye to see that he had one arm under his pillow, supporting his neck. His eyes were fixed on my arm.

I closed my eye again and cleared my throat. “Michael?”

“Hm?” he made the sound quietly.

“I just want to say thanks.”

“For?”

“Tonight. With the... you know...”

“Saving you?”

“Yeah.” I was silent for a while before Michael spoke again.

“You know, I would say it's no big deal, but the situation was kind of a huge fucking deal.” There was a hint of humor in his voice but I didn't share the amused tone.

“I'm aware.”

“How long has suicide been on your mind?” The air seemed heavier once he'd asked.

“As long as I've felt like this, I guess.”

“What, depressed?”

I made a humming sound that agreed with the statement

“How long has that been?”

I couldn't think of an exact start date. It was one of those things that weighed on a person for so long that it felt like it's always been there. “I don't know. Years? Maybe longer.”

“This is the fourth time?”

I didn't process what he meant at first. My heart was heavy in my chest when I realized he was talking about how many times I'd tried to kill myself. “Yeah,” I answered without emotion.

“Were you scared this time?”

I almost scoffed until I thought about it. I'd told Michael that I wasn't afraid any of the times I'd tried to commit suicide, and I scoffed then. I couldn't help but wonder if fear was the emotion that I was feeling on the bridge that drove me to listen to my voice mails. “It was a little scary.”

“Are you afraid to die?”

“I thought I told you that I wasn't. That it's what I wanted.”

“Right. Sorry.” He was silent for a while until I felt something touch my arm. I flinched at the contact but didn't open my eyes. “Sorry,” Michael spewed out. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” I said slightly confused with a smile in my voice. I didn't realize why he would have thought it would hurt me until he moved his finger back down softly and began to trace out the letters on my forearm. “It feels nice, actually.”

He made an acknowledging sound and continued to run his finger tip over the raised skin until he'd gone over the entire word and then he moved backwards over it with multiple fingers.

“What do you s'pose it's like?” He asked me.

“What what's like?” I asked, not understanding the question. I opened my eyes and turned my head to look at him, still tracing over my scars.

“You know...” he took his hand away from my arm and seemed to shrug with it, making a strange motion in the air before returning to his work. “The afterlife.”

“Oh,” I closed my eyes again but kept myself facing him. “I guess I've never really thought about it.”

“All this talk of death and dying and you've never once thought about where you might go if you're successful?”

“I guess.”

“I bet it's like in the movie. Like, we're all just there and it's like another life only much less interesting and you show a mark of how you died."

“That's only for suicide.”

“What?”

I opened my eyes and met his eyes; he was resting his head close to my arm. “That afterlife was only for people who offed themselves.”

“Well,” He watched my face intently. “Maybe there's one for people who didn't. Maybe there isn't a difference. Maybe you can smile there.”

His final sentence got to me. I wasn't sure if he was referring to the fact that in Wristcutters, the suicide victims couldn't smile in the afterlife or if his 'you' directly addressed me. _I'll be happy when I'm dead,_ I thought to myself. “Maybe,” I answered him, my voice lower than normal.

“Do you have any ideas what it would be like?” He asked. He stopped tracing the letters and set his palm down on my upper arm.

“I don't really think there is one.”

“So you're saying,” he propped himself up on his elbow from under the pillow. “After you die, there's just... nothing?”

“Yeah. It would be pretty peaceful that way.”

“Do you really think that or are you just hoping?” His tone was condescending.

I paused before I answered, taking the time to turn onto my side to completely face him. “Maybe a bit of both.”

He let out a sigh and shook his head before laying back down. “I wish you...” he paused, making a face like he was trying to find the right words. “I wish you wouldn't think about dying all the time.”

“I can't really hel-”

“I know you can't help it. I just wish I could figure out a way to help you.”

I sighed and closed my eyes again. “Just being here helps, Michael.”

“D-does it?” There was a slight stutter in his voice and it made me smile.

“Absolutely. You're a fine lad and it's nice to have a friend that's here for me.”

“Right.” The bed shifted again and I opened my eyes to see him changing positions to lay on his back. “I'm glad we're friends.”

After that, there wasn't anymore small talk or deep conversations. We drifted silently off to sleep to the sound of each others breathing and the buzz of the oscillating space heater.


	18. Embarrassed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drops this here (tumblr post: http://poohmandu.tumblr.com/post/70142769699/becoming-free-18-embarrassed)

 I woke up the next morning when the constant sound of the space heater had disappeared. The sun was streaming in through the bedroom window onto my face that was partially sunk into my pillow. I felt warmer than I should have been – I didn't feel any blankets around me and realized I must have fallen asleep without pulling back the comforter. It wasn't until I saw Michael's arm over my side that I remembered he was there, and cuddled up against me at that.

He was spooning me, taking the place of the big spoon. I could feel his nose against the back of my neck and his other arm under my pillow, supporting my head. His body was pressed up against me, making it much warmer than the temperature of the room. I wasn't used to the human contact and tried to wiggle away from him which must have woke him up.

He started to move against my back and his right arm came up over my chest to keep me close. He yawned and stretched out a bit, and that's when I felt something hard against my lower back.

“Morning, Gav,” He said in a sleepy voice.

“U-uh,” I stuttered out, my face growing hot. “M-Michael?”

“Hmm?” He said, loosening his grip on me.

“C-could you possibly m-move your groin out of my back?”

He slowly became aware of the situation and when he'd completely woken up, he jumped as far back as he could and then proceeded to fall to the floor.

“Oh my god,” He said as I turned to him. He was holding one hand over his face and the other was pulling his shirt down over his erect penis inside of his jeans. What I could see of his face was beat red. “I'm so sorry, Gavin.” He walked out of the bedroom before I was able to get up. By the time I walked down the hallway, he was at the door putting on his shoes.

“It's not that big of a deal, ya know,” I said to him as I approached.

“I'm sorry, I just...” He paused to look at his phone. “I have to go. C-class and everything.”

“You have class today?”

“Y-yeah.” He stood up after both of his shoes were tied and opened the door.

“Well,” I said after a moments hesitation. “Text me later then?”

He was already half way out when he stopped and looked over his shoulder. “I've got a lot of homework to catch up on.”

My heart sank in my chest a bit but I knew that I couldn't get mad at him. He seemed really embarrassed about the whole situation and he was a student after all. “That's fine. I'll see you then.”

He closed the door behind him without saying another world.

I felt bad for reacting the way I did. I'd embarrassed Michael to the point that he probably wasn't going to contact me for a couple days, even though the night before, he'd saved my life. It was such a strange thing to feel. It could have happened to anyone that woke up pressed against someone else. I felt extremely stupid for reacting the way I did and I wished that he'd walk back into my apartment so I could apologize.

He didn't, though, and I let out a sigh before looking to the clock on my entertainment system, only to realize that there was no time displayed. I walked into the kitchen to check the stove for the time and it seemed as though that digital clock was also off. After a bit of exploring and testing the light switches, I determined that my power was out.

I walked out into the hallway and all the lights were on. Something must have clicked in my brain because I immediately reached for my wallet. I looked in and there weren't any big bills. I then looked at my phone screen. It was still in my pocket from the previous night and was running on five percent battery. The date read the twenty-seventh of September and I smacked myself in the face, regretting it almost instantly. I had forgotten to pay my utility bill at the beginning of the month. I knew there was a reason I had enough money to buy Egg but I didn't stop to think twice and didn't care – like an idiot. I didn't know what I was going to do. I couldn't bear the thought of calling my parents asking for money. I hadn't talked to them in over a year and I didn't want my first conversation with them to be about money.

There was still hope though, or at least I thought there was. I put on shoes and let Egg out of her cage, thinking she would be okay for a while alone. I walked into the elevator and into the lobby, finding Lindsay behind the counter.

“Hey!” She said with a cheery expression. “We were worried about you last night.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” I responded, rubbing the back of my neck.

“I see that Michael found you, though. He left in quite a hurry.”

“Yeah, he had class or something.”

“Class?”

“Yeah, that's what he said before he left.”

“He told me last night he didn't have class today.”

I felt like smacking myself again. I most likely had lost him as a friend because of my reaction. “Oh,” Was all I could manage to respond with. “Well, I'll talk to you in a bit, Linds. I've got to run to the ATM.”

“Okay, I'll see you later then.”

I stepped out onto the sidewalk and walked in the direction of the closest ATM which was less than a block away. I nervously stood behind a man that was using it, waiting my turn. When he had finished, I nearly threw myself at the machine, shoving my card in and entering my PIN as quickly as possible, messing up once before I could access my account. I checked both savings and checking and to my disappointment, they were both nearly empty.

After trudging back to my apartment and ignoring Lindsay on the way in, I fell to the couch. There were way too many things on my mind. Michael was one of the top things. He was something else entirely. Lindsay and Barbara were my friends, but Michael was different. I actually wanted to be around him and I wanted to be there for him like he was there for me. Morning wood was nothing to be ashamed of. I couldn't help but think the maybe the reason he was so embarrassed was because I might think he's attracted to me. After I ruled that out through reason, I thought that he might actually like me as more than a friend, and I couldn't think of anything to disprove it. I pushed the thoughts to the back of my head to worry about later and got back to a more pressing issue.

I was screwed. No electricity. No heat or cooling. No refrigerated food or microwaved or cooked or baked for that matter. All of the food in the fridge would be bad within a few days. I wouldn't get money until my parents sent the normal amount at the end of the month, which wasn't very far away, but the fact that the power had been shut off was a sign that I hadn't paid for at least two months. I would never be able to get caught up. _Unless..._

I walked down to the lobby after putting Egg in her cage and grabbing my phone charger. Lindsay gave me a look when I walked off the elevator.

“Can I use the outlet?” I asked her, plopping down on the floor beside the desk.

“Yeah, sure. Is everything okay?” She gave me a concerned look.

“Everything's fine, I just messed up a bit.”

I plugged my dead phone in, turning it on once it seemed to be charged enough. I looked up Barbara in my contacts and hit call.

“Hello?” She answered quietly.

“Hey, Barb. It's Gavin.”

“Oh, hey. What's up?”

“Is Game Stop hiring?”

“You'd have to talk to Ray about it.” I had to think for a moment who Ray was. I remembered her calling someone Ray when I helped at the GTA release night. I just couldn't remember which one he was.

“Can't you just talk to him?”

“Gavin,” She sighed. “If you want the job, you'll have to take responsibility and act like you want it. Like an adult?”

I made an irritated sound into the phone. “When is he working next?”

“He's working right now.”

“Are you working?”

“Yes.”

“How long is he working for?”

“I don't know, Gavin! I have to get back to work. Just come in and I'll tell him you're coming.”

“Okay.”

She hung up then and Lindsay looked down to my spot on the floor. “You're getting a job?” She asked, a little confused.

“I guess I'll have to go to Game Stop to find out.”


	19. Cute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo sorry for the wait (tumblr post: http://poohmandu.tumblr.com/post/70362354069/becoming-free-19-cute)

 When I walked into Game Stop, Barbara was nowhere to be found. There was man standing behind the counter – one of the ones that was at the midnight release – and he smiled as I approached. He flipped his blonde hair out of his face before speaking.

“You're Gavin, right?” He asked me, leaning both hands on the counter. He was much shorter than I was by at least four inches.

“Yeah,” I smiled back at him. “I'm sorry, I'm not sure I remember your name.”

“Kerry. You're here for Ray?” I nodded my head to confirm his statement. “Okay. I'll get him for you!” Kerry stepped back from the counter and disappeared behind a hidden door that was disguised as a wall with shelves and games on it.

I twiddled my thumbs nervously in front of me. I'd never had a job before. My depression was always too bad for me to even be considered for one. Whenever I first came to the United States, I applied for a job to see if I could get a work VISA. I had to take a physical and the doctor ended up asking me questions about my mental heath and deemed me unfit for the job. I'd never tried again after that and instead applied for citizenship. It took a while, but I finally did get in, and somehow passed the test.

A dark haired man with glasses and quite a bit of stubble came out of the room followed closely behind by a still smiling Kerry. “Hey,” The man greeted me with a smile and as he came out from behind the counter, he stuck his hand out for me to shake. I took it in mine and we exchanged smiles. “You're Gavin, right?”

“Yes. You must be Ray?”

“That's me,” he said as he dropped his hand from mine and started walking towards the front door. “We'll be back in a bit, Kerry.”

“Bring me back something!” Kerry shouted just before we walked out the doors.

Ray led me across the parking lot in the direction of the Taco Bell on the other side. We went inside and placed orders, Ray paying for mine when I told him I didn't have money on me. Once we'd sat down at the table in the back corner, he started asking me questions.

“So, you want to work at Game Stop?”

“Yeah,” I said with half a bite of a burrito in my mouth.

“Why's that?” He started unwrapping a soft taco and shoved almost half of it in his mouth.

“Well,” I started. “I need some money to pay bills.” My answer was very obvious and I noticed it when Ray looked up at me over his glasses. “It seems like a good place to work, too.”

“It's pretty nice,” he chuckled after swallowing. “Around games all day. The discounts. Most of the people that come in aren't ass holes.” I laughed and he continued. “You'll just start as a shadow to me or Barb for about a week or two. It just depends how easily you soak up information.”

“My brain's a sponge,” I replied. My statement made him chuckle.

We talked for a while about the job in the back of Taco Bell until we'd finished our meals, at which point we got up to leave. Ray stopped at the counter to order something or Kerry and while we waited for that to be done, we talked a little about our personal lives. I brought up Michael and Ray seemed to know him. “He comes in the store on most of the midnight releases. Either that or his friend Miles picks up his reservations for him.”

“Ah,” I nodded. “They're not friends anymore.”

“Good for Michael.” Ray grabbed Kerry's food and we walked towards the door. “That guy's a dick.”

“I've noticed.”

“He was at the GTA release. The guy that was screaming at me?”

I thought back to the experience and had no recollection of the event taking place. Then again, I didn't pay attention to anything other than handing out games that night. “I don't remember.”

“Yeah, well, he was there. Every time he comes in, he yells at me because I tell him that he can't pick up someone's copy that isn't his. Always the same argument, then he ends up calling Michael. Then they would fight. Those two fought like an old married couple.” I laughed at that and debated telling Ray that they were dating. I decided against it, remembering that Barbara didn't even know until I told her and she had classes with him. “Anyway,” He paused outside the doors of Game Stop. “You have the job. I'll have you fill out some paperwork inside and then I'll make up a schedule for you. What can you work?”

“Thanks!” I smiled, unable to contain it. “I'm able to work any time. I'd prefer weekdays.”

“I think I can manage that. I can't guarantee you'll get thirty hours or anything but I'd expect something like twenty to twenty-four a week.” We walked inside and Ray gave Kerry his food and told him to take a break. Ray stepped behind the counter and pulled out a stack of forms then handed them to me. “Just fill these out in the back room.” He pointed in the direction where Kerry had disappeared to. “If you don't know something, just leave it blank and bring the things you need next time you're in.”

I nodded and walked in to the doorway that had a door disguised as a shelf. The room filled the space to my left and was lined with black metal shelves stacked with video games for every console, including some consoles themselves and controllers to go along with them. Kerry was sitting at a table in the back of the long room. He waved to me and I approached him. I sat next to him and we chatted about video games while he ate and I filled out papers. The one thing that I didn't have on me was my social security card and there was no way that I could remember the numbers off the top of my head like everyone else seemed to be able to do.

When I was finishing up filling out the section for previous job experience, my phone rang. I looked at the screen and read Michael's name.

“Do you care if I take this?” I asked Kerry. He was leaning back in his seat having just finished eating his tacos.

“No, that's fine.” He stood up and walked toward the doorway. “My break's about over anyway.” He gave one last cheerful wave and shut the door behind him.

“Hello?” I answered my phone, leaning on the table and chewing on the pen cap to the pen that I was given.

“Hey, Gavin. It's Michael.” His voice sounded like he was upset about something.

“What's up?” I asked, hoping he would explain.

He let out a sigh before continuing. “I just wanted to call and say I'm sorry about this morning.”

“It's fine,” I chuckled. “It's really not a big deal and I understand.”

“Right...” He paused. “I also wanted to apologize for leaving like that. I didn't actually have class.”

“Oh?” I smiled, knowing that he didn't from Lindsay.

“Yeah. I was really embarrassed and, like,” He sighed again and I couldn't shake the smile I had spread across my face. “I don't know. I feel like an ass.”

“Don't feel like an ass, Michael.” I dropped my hand to the back side of the paper I had finished filling out and began to scribble. “I thought the whole thing was kind of cute.”

“Cute?” He questioned almost immediately and I mentally smacked myself.

“N-not like, I-think-you're-cute cute, but the-whole-situation-was-silly cute.” I felt as if I should have shoved my foot in my mouth to prevent myself from sounding like an idiot.

He laughed loudly. “You're a fucking idiot,” He teased. “When can I see you again?”

I thought about my power and why I was in the back room of Game Stop filling out paper work to begin with. “Well, there's a situation at my place, so we can't really hang out there.”

“What kind of situation?” His voice was riddled with concern.

“My power is shut off.”

“Why?”

“Long story short, I'm an idiot.”

“I already know that,” I could picture the smile spread across his lips. “How long is it gonna be out?”

“Until I can pay part of the bill.”

“How long will that be?”

I sighed and leaned back in the folding chair, removing my hand from the paper. “A week or two maybe.”

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “How about you stay with me until then?”

My eyes went wide at his offer. “I couldn't ask that of you, Michael.”

“Gavin,” He said my name flatly. “I'm not giving you a choice.”

I grunted and then went on. “Fine, fine. Can we save the things from my fridge? Maybe pick up Egg and get some clothes?”

“Of course, dumb ass. Are you at home now?”

“Uh, no,” I responded with a giggle. “I'm filling out paperwork at Game Stop. I got a job!”

“That's awesome, Gav!” He sounded excited. “Well, I'll come pick you up and we'll get your shit. Is it the one by the Taco Bell?”

“Yeah, that's the one.”

“Is Ray working? Haven't seen that bitch in weeks.”

“Yeah, he's here.”

“Okay, I'll be there in a bit then. See ya.”

“Bye.”

I hung up the phone and kept the smile on my face, unable to shake it. Looking down at my paper I noticed that I'd drawn a couple very tiny hearts in a clump. I blushed and scribbled them out quickly then grabbed the papers and left the back room.

“All done?” Ray asked as he put a game on one of the shelves.

“Yeah. I didn't know my social security number but I'll bring it next time.”

“Sounds fine. I have you shadowing me on Monday from four to close. Does that work for you?”

“Absolutely,” I answered and handed him the stack.

“Awesome. See you then?”

“Actually, I have to wait for my ride.”

“That works out,” He replied, signaling me to come to the back room. “I'll give you a quick tour.”

He showed me where all the games were and how they were organized and where to find each one like in a library. He turned on the television where we tested the consoles that customers would trade in to make sure that they worked properly and showed me where all the cleaning supplies were for the controllers and consoles and games. As he was finishing up, Michael walked in the doors.

“What up?” Ray asked in an overly dramatic voice.

“Not much,” Michael responded in an equal tone. “Just here to pick up my date.” Michael winked at me and laughed when I went wide-eyed and started blushing.

“Is this who you ditched that prick for?” Ray joked back, elbowing me in my side.

“Stop!” I whined at both of them and they burst into laughter when I pouted.

Michael and I walked out the doors after he and Ray talked for a while, Kerry joining in every so often. We walked towards his car and he opened my door for me. Once we'd both gotten in and headed to my apartment, he asked me something that caught me off guard.

“So,” He started, pausing to look at me out of the corner of his eye. “You think I'm cute?” I blushed again and smacked his shoulder. “Okay! Okay, I'll stop.” He giggled to himself and I tried to ignore the smile plastered on his face.

_What if I actually thought he was cute?_


	20. Familiar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long wait my goodness (tumblr post: http://poohsoup.tumblr.com/post/71187653038/becoming-free-20-familiar)

 The next few weeks, I stayed with Michael. I swore that I'd be out as soon as I got my first paycheck and kept reminding him of that, but he didn't seem to care when I left. He would tell me, “Quit worrying,” and, “You know you can stay as long as you'd like,” in response. He'd remind me at the end of every day that I'd always have a place to stay, no matter what would happen.

My mom and dad ended up sending me the money I needed at the beginning of the month like they always did, but of course I couldn't pay the bills because I was so far behind. I gave them a call to let them know how things were going and they seemed pleasantly surprised and a little overly happy that I was talking to them, which I didn't expect. I told them about my job and the friends I'd met. I didn't tell them about the bills I'd neglected to pay simply because I didn't want to risk worrying them or making them feel like they needed to send more money. They did end up asking me if I'd still need money once I started getting paid, to which I told them that I'd like it just to make sure I could stay on my feet but I'd be sure to let them know when I was stable. They seemed so happy to know that I was actually getting somewhere instead of doing what I'd done in the time I hadn't contacted them.

Everything seemed to be going well for the moment. Michael and I had worked out a routine that just barely worked. Most weekdays I worked and Michael insisted that he drive me on his way to class even though the campus was in the opposite direction and I could practically walk to Game Stop. I'd spend anywhere from six to eight hours putting away stock or running the cash register that Barbara had taught me to use, then I'd walk back to Michael's apartment after I'd clocked out. He'd usually be there, making food with Egg watching anxiously waiting for him to drop any scraps which, from what I'd seen, he usually did. We'd eat our food then watch a movie or play a game until we were tired in the early hours of the morning when we'd go to sleep with him in his room and me on the couch.

The first time I'd stayed, he offered me his room instead of the couch and I refused outright. Of course he tried to persuade me to take it, “being the guest and all.” I argued with him how outrageous the suggestion was until I gave up and flopped onto the couch, refusing to move. He tried to pick me up and take me to the bedroom, only to have me grab onto the edge of the couch so he couldn't take me. After that night, he let me sleep peacefully where I pleased.

Egg seemed to like being out of her cage, discovering that she could walk around and explore while we were sleeping. She was always playing with something in the living room which made it hard for me to get a full nights sleep. I snipped the bells off of most of her toys after two days and the issue seemed to get better, but I never felt like I'd gotten enough sleep. Michael noticed after the first week and after that, Egg would disappear until Michael woke up. I assumed he shut her in his room. If he was getting less sleep because of it, it didn't show. He always seemed happy or angry but I knew better than to believe the anger he portrayed was real. It was easy to tell when he was actually mad about something.

He didn't get legitimately mad very often, but once in a while he'd get calls from a number he didn't have in his contacts and he'd ignore it. Every time his phone rang like that, he'd get deafeningly quiet and wouldn't smile much. He'd sometimes get calls when we'd be out to lunch and mid conversation he would look at his phone and stop talking, dropping it completely. It would take him a couple hours to get back to his normal self and that's when I could tell that Michael was actually angry. I was a little concerned for him when he got those calls but it was nothing that he couldn't handle. I could tell he was more worried about me than anything.

He would always ask me how I was, even if we'd been sitting together on the couch for hours. I'd always answer, “I'm fine,” with a confused smirk and he'd give me a look and roll his eyes after the flash of a smile. After a couple days, he started asking me after I answered, “How do you really feel though?” I didn't catch on to what he was talking about until I had a particularly bad day. I felt alone, even in his presence and I was terrified that I'd stopped enjoying his company fully. My suicidal thoughts were back in full but I couldn't bring myself to act when Michael was in the same room. He asked me if I was okay then and I of course answered that I was fine and he of course asked “How do you really feel though?” I ended up breaking down in tears and telling him about my thoughts and how alone I felt. He rubbed a soft hand over my back while I cried. After I'd finished, I felt much better. We ended up laying on the couch together, his arms around me as I silently rubbed my fingers over one of his hands. We stayed like that until we fell asleep, not saying a word to each other. It was nice but I woke up feeling more awkward than ever.

We went about our own business that day. He had school and I was off work so I decided to clean the apartment to get my mind off thoughts of him. I wasn't sure how I felt about him. He was definitely my best friend and was there for me and I appreciated it more than he would ever know, but there was an undertone of something more serious. I wanted to be close to him. I wanted him to hold me but I could never admit that to him. It was far too embarrassing for someone that was supposed to be straight. The thought crossed my mind frequently that I might like him as more than a friend but it was always quickly brushed away with embarrassment. _I was straight._

When the time finally came for me to move back into my place, it was the weekend before Halloween. I figured that two paychecks would be good enough to get me by, combined with my parent's money they sent at the beginning of the month and the money that would come from them again the next month. Michael's parents had also come to town and he was to take them out to dinner on that night as part of their vacation. They didn't venture out very often, Michael explained, but they took a week long vacation each year to visit all their sons that had gone away to college. They were only in Austin for two days and I found it was the perfect time to give Michael some space to be with his parents.

We packed up my things and carefully transported them back to my apartment after we'd payed my bills. I was thrilled to flick on the switch in the doorway and see the lights turn on instantly. Michael and I spent a while putting my clothes back in drawers and making sure Egg was situated. When it was time for Michael to leave, we shared an awkward silence and a short stare.

“Are you gonna be alright?” Michael finally broke the silence. He was standing in the open doorway to my flat, Egg in his arms. He scratched mindlessly behind her ears as he continued to look at me awaiting an answer.

“I'll be completely fine,” I promised him with a smile. The thought of not having Michael there constantly was strange after nearly a month of living in the same space. He crossed the room to me then, wrapping arms around me after he dropped Egg.

“Don't be a stranger, dude.” I wrapped my arms around him and returned the hug. “Don't you dare fucking think that we aren't gonna hang out, like, every god damn day.”

I laughed and pulled out of the hug. “I'm not going to be a stranger. You should know me better than that by now.”

Good byes were exchanged and Michael was on his way. The door shut and I was alone in my apartment again, for the first time in a month. I didn't know what to do with myself for a while so I started blankly at the front door until Egg came up to my feet and meowed. That was when I realized that tears were dripping off my chin.


	21. Scared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I'll get back on track now with normal updates. It's getting to the meat (tumblr post: http://poohsoup.tumblr.com/post/71355890494/becoming-free-21-scared)

  I couldn't _stop_ crying. The tears kept coming to my eyes and rolling down my cheeks and dripping off of my chin either onto my shirt or the ground. Michael hadn't been gone more than ten minutes and I'd already lost it. _What was wrong with me?_ Besides the obvious and normal, I couldn't pinpoint what it was. I needed some air.

I walked down the steps instead of taking the elevator like I normally would have and when I stepped out of the stairwell into the lobby I expected to see Lindsay even though we hadn't seen her on the way in when we were moving my things back. She of course wasn't there. I ended up walking straight out the doors past the unknown man at the front desk and down the street towards the convenience store.

When I reached my destination, I walked in and stared at the rack of Pringles and other things, finally getting myself to stop crying. I felt like I was watching myself from outside of my own body like I felt the night I'd sliced my arm up. Remembering the scars, I looked down and rolled back the long sleeve shirt I had on. The air was really starting to get chilly with November approaching quickly and Michael refused to let me leave in anything without long sleeves.

The letters were still there, now faded pink and waxy looking. The word was still very easy to make out. I couldn't help but wonder how I did such a thing to myself. It was hard to believe that I'd done it and it was made even more difficult because I felt like I was watching myself move through a window. I couldn't pinpoint what was going on in my head, but I knew it was a bad idea to have left the apartment building. I didn't feel in control of myself. Even though there was the same feeling of watching myself, no other feelings corresponded with the night I almost died.

“Sir?” I heard a female voice address me from my side. “Sir, you've been staring at the shelves for thirty minutes. Are you alright?”

 _Thirty minutes._ “I'm quite alright,” I answered her quickly and began walking out of the store. “Thanks,” I called out to her at the last minute.

I needed to figure out what was going on in my head because it definitely wasn't anything good. Something was going terribly wrong and I had no idea how to stop it. Not only that but it was worse than normal. Normally when I started feeling this way, I either acted out with suicidal intentions or quietly sobbed on my couch until the feeling went away. This time it was different. Much different.

My heart pounded in my chest as I walked back to my building. I couldn't slow it and my eyes darted everywhere but where I was walking, causing some people to bump into me in passing. If they said anything to me, I wasn't paying attention. I couldn't hear anyone over the sound of my heart beating in my ears.

I climbed the stairs again, avoiding the elevator for some unknown subliminal reason. I shakily unlocked my door when I reached it, dropping the keys a few times before realizing that I left the door unlocked in the first place. Shutting it behind me, I passed by Egg and started pacing through the living room, running my hands through my hair nervously.

I was finally piecing it together. There was something that I'd been plagued with for years. Something kept building and building that started in high school. I didn't have many friends and I always sat alone. I wasn't sure if it was because I had pushed them away or if they left on their own. I remembered having friends, I knew that for a fact. When they left was a blur. That was when it all started. The rest of the years were blurs until I moved out of country because I had nothing going for me in the UK. I intended to kill myself in peace and I couldn't and I never could since. In between, all I'd had was the occasional phone calls from my parents and my ever growing older cat that left me in the end to die in peace like I wished I could have. I had met Barb as I was dropping out of college and she did help me out but I was never really invested in our friendship. She was there when I needed her and I felt awful because I could never fully be there for her because of my condition. Lindsay was also nice and always made sure I was taken care of. She reached out with genuine concern and it was uplifting for a while but, again, I never paid much attention to all the good things she did for me.

It wasn't until I met Michael that I truly became interested in having a friendship with anyone. We clicked so quickly and even then, I almost pushed him away. Even through all the terrible things I put him through, he stuck around. I wanted to continue to see him. Whether it be because I needed a friend or I was interested in him as more than that was still unclear to me and my emotions were still in an awful knot. I'd never had sex of any kind. I'd never had a relationship. Society taught me that a normal man was straight and liked women and I agreed without considering that society might be wrong. Feelings that I might identify as something other than the “normal man” had been growing and growing ever since Michael and I had first met. Before that, I had absolutely no reason to dispute it. I couldn't get up to anything or anyone and I never had a desire to explore something that I had no interest in. Thinking about it gave me a headache and the day at Game Stop when I called Michael cute on accident had me in a vice grip. I couldn't stop thinking about it and if our friendship was really about being friends. None of that mattered with Michael because the truth of the matter didn't involve sex or our relationship. I finally had it figured out and I pushed all other thoughts aside to make way for a new one:

I was alone. I was so alone that it was breaking me and had been for a very long time. Not only that, but the more that I realized that I was alone, the more unstable I became. It wasn't the instability that I suffered from when I jumped in front of a car or tried to hang myself or took a box cutter across my forearm. It was more recent instability like when I tried to jump off the bridge and I was so worked up that I had to call Michael to come get me or the night that Michael held me while I cried out all my feelings. I wanted to do that again, except Michael wasn't there and was with his parents doing important things like enjoying their company. The thought of him ignoring my phone calls kept running through my head and I began to talk to myself when the tears came back in full force.

“Why would he answer you? He has much better things to do than cater to your stupid needs.”

I didn't plan on calling Michael at all because I didn't want to disturb him, but for some reason my finger was still hovering over the send button on my phone screen. His name had been selected and his number was on the front screen, just begging to be called.

“Don't do it,” I kept saying to myself. “Don't do it. You'll ruin his night. Don't do it. Don't do it.”

I thought of Michael sitting at a table with his parents at some fancy restaurant that he's never been to before. They'd be talking about how school was going and how him and Miles had broken up and how I was a burden on him. The guilt was overwhelming when I thought of him explaining me to his parents and how awful I must have been the last month.

I started shaking and before I knew it I was on my knees on the floor. I couldn't stop the sobs that were escaping from my mouth, loud enough to scare Egg away as soon as she'd come up beside me. I knew I had to call Michael at that point and I knew that if I didn't I could end up dead. It was the first time that I'd felt actual fear of dying. My finger fell on the send key on my screen. I held the phone up to my ear and before long, Michael's voice greeted me.

“Hello?” He answered. I could hear a female voice in the background ask, “Who is it Michael?” to which he answered, “It's Gavin.” He said my name as if she already knew who I was. “I'll be right back, mom.” He said 'hello' again when I hadn't replied and he'd exited whatever room he was in.

“Michael?”

He sighed. “Are you okay?” My tone must have given me away.

“Michael I-I'm scared,” Was all I could think to say.

“Why?” The concern rose in his voice. “What's wrong?”

“I'm scared I'm gonna hurt myself.”

“Where are you, Gav?” I heard him open a door and his mom made a sound as if she were going to say something and then stopped talking. “I'll come get you, you've just gotta tell me where you are.”

“I'm at home.”

“Okay. Hold on one second, okay?”

“Okay.”

He took the phone away from his ear and began talking. “Mom, I've gotta go get him.”

“Why, what's wrong?” she asked. The concern in her voice sounded just as Michael's did when he talked to me.

“He's in some trouble, that's all. Is it okay if I bring him back here for dinner?”

“That's fine. Your father should be back soon, do you want me to let him know?”

“Yeah, sure. I'll be right back. His place is just across town.” Michael returned to talking to me as the door opened and shut again in the background. “I'm coming to get you, Gav. Don't leave and just try to stay calm.”

“Okay.” I couldn't think of anything else to say and I probably sounded like an idiot saying so little in between sobs, but Michael's voice had calmed me down a bit.


	22. Stressful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in this short of a time? when was the last time this happened? IWNBIAA? HA (tumblr post: http://poohsoup.tumblr.com/post/71396935718/becoming-free-22-stressful)

 I didn't hear or see Michael until he was standing in front of me and even then I didn't entirely see him. I felt him put his arms under mine and pull me off the floor where I was laying in fetal position, quietly sobbing. He spun me around and the next thing I knew, I was cradled in his arms on the couch. He was calling out my name – I could read it on his lips. I moved my eyes to meet his and then I began to hear his voice.

“Gavin,” He said, rubbing a hand over my back and repositioning me so I was sitting in his lap, my back against the arm of the couch. “Come on, dude, snap out of it.”

“W-what?” I squeaked out. I closed my eyes and shook my head and everything became more clear. I must have started to cry harder because Michael pushed my face into his neck and kept rubbing my back.

“It's fine, Gavin. Everything is okay.”

I moved a hand to the collar of his jacket and grabbed on to it, pulling myself into his neck even more. We stayed like that for a while until I could settle myself down. When I'd nearly stopped crying, I pulled myself away and wiped at me eyes.

“Are you okay now?” Michael asked me in a soft voice.

“I think so,” I replied quietly. I took my hands away from my eyes and looked up at Michael who was giving me a broken smile with concerned eyes.

“Do you want to go out to dinner?” He brushed some of my hair out of my face.

I followed his hand with my eyes until he dropped it to my cheek where it lingered a bit then fell to my side. “Y-yeah,” I stuttered out.

We didn't say much else on the ride to his place. He didn't ask me what happened or why I'd ended up so upset. He just drove looking straight ahead with a straight face without looking or speaking to me.

We walked in the doors to his apartment and were immediately greeted by his parents. They were exactly what I expected. Michael's mother was shorter and a little thicker with red hair the same as Michael's. Her face looked sweet and her eyes were kind. She had dimples just like Michael's. His father was about my height and had glasses and dark hair. He looked more like he was a native of New Jersey – there was something hard about the way he stood – but he seemed to be very nice when he greeted me.

“Michael! Glad you're finally back,” He said when we'd stepped in. “This is Gavin?” He crossed the room to us and stuck out a hand for me to shake. I took it happily and managed a smile.

“Yeah, this is him,” Michael said, walking further into the house to stand halfway between his mother and father.

“Michael has told us so much about you!” His mother approached me and his father stepped aside, dropping my hand so she could embrace me. I hugged her back for a short while.

“Oh really?” I asked, casting a suspicious glance at Michael. I expected him to laugh or make a sarcastic comment but instead, he blushed and avoided making eye contact with me.

“Of course!” She answered. “I'm starving! Let's get going.”

We drove into town in his father's car, Michael and I occupying the back seat. We sat on opposite sides and didn't look at each other much and when I caught him looking at me, he quickly turned away. Dinner was the same way. Michael and his parents talked and joked with us and I had a genuinely good time. It seemed as though Michael also did but his expression and body language would change drastically when he looked my way. After dinner, we returned to Michael's place and watched a movie that I didn't quite catch the name of. I must have drifted off at some point because I woke up to Michael moving me off his shoulder to get up and say good bye to his parents. I stretched out and they both waved to me and I waved back.

Michael shut the door and stayed on that side of the room for a while. “Your parents are great,” I said to him but he stayed facing the door, not saying a word. “Michael?” I called out his name hoping to get his attention.

“You were doing really well up until tonight.” He said it without turning around. There was a slight anger in his voice.

“What do you mean?”

“Before I dropped you off, I actually believed you were getting better.”

“I-I... I don't feel like I'm better.”

“You seemed like you weren't as depressed lately.”

I didn't know what to say to that. Up until I got home, I'd been fine, he was right about that. But not as depressed? I couldn't agree with that. I thought it through and I realized why.

“Like, you just seemed fucking happier. I don't know.” He walked from his spot at the door towards me and his eyes looked tired and slightly glossed over.

“I'm happy when I'm with you, Michael.” That was my answer and that's what I'd come up with.

“But are you any less depressed?”

“I don't think so, no. I just forget when I'm with you.”

“And when you're not, you break down like that?” He motioned outward with one of his arms. “That's not good, Gav!”

“What?” I was shocked by his raised voice. “It was just one time.”

“What if it happens again, as soon as I drop you off? Don't you want to recover? Or get better?” He was practically yelling at me.

“I guess...” My sentence trailed off as I broke eye contact with him.

“You need to not just fucking forget about it! It's still a big fucking problem is it not?” He walked closer to me and sat on the coffee table so he was facing me, but still about a foot away.

“If I feel better sometimes then what does it matter if I'm actually better or not?” I faced him and put my hands up to my chest, my voice raised as well. “So I have weaknesses when you're not around, I'll learn to deal with that. What does it matter?”

“What does it matter? What if one night I'm not there for you when you need me and I can't make you fucking forget?” I noticed that he had started to cry and the tears were rolling down his cheeks. “What if I get busy and can't come to the phone? What if I don't have a cell signal or my phone is dead? What happens then? You fucking die, Gavin.” He paused then, the air in the room sitting heavy in my lungs. The silence was deafening and it kept going and going. It stretched on and I was fearful that it would never end.

It was then that I fully realized how much Michael cared about my well being. Earlier, I'd thought that he'd think I was annoying and a pain in the ass to deal with but sitting in that room and watching him cry made me realize that I couldn't put him through the pain any longer. I decided I needed to do something to get better, if not for myself, then for him.

“You just off yourself and I can't be there to stop you,” He continued after sniffling and lowering his teary voice. “That's my worst fucking fear when it comes to you and you don't understand how much that stresses me out. I have to make sure I answer every phone call and every text because what if I don't? What happens when you can't rely on me for happiness, Gav? I know this is supposed to be about you and your depression but look to what it's doing to those around you too! I can't lose you, Gavin, I just-”

“I'll go back to therapy,” I interrupted him quietly.

“W-what?” he shook his head as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

“I said,” I paused and stood from where I was sitting. I put a hand on his head and lowered myself down where he was sitting, wrapping my arms around him after ruffling his hair. “I'll go back to therapy.”

That's when his tears really kicked in and he buried his face into my shoulder. He gripped his hands onto the back of my shirt and let out all of his sobs while I sat beside him on the table and let him drench my shirt.


	23. Confusing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many plans for the next chapter but idk really (tumblr post: http://poohsoup.tumblr.com/post/71717799157/becoming-free-23-confusing)

 And so, I went back to therapy. It took about a week for me to find the right place. I would search online for all the therapists in the area that I could see but none of them seemed right. I would search with Michael most of the time, his apartment being fitted with good internet instead of the terrible speeds I had from the coffee shop down the street I was stealing a signal from.

“What about this one?” Michael asked, handing me his laptop and crossing the room to turn on the Xbox. I was sitting on the couch, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that he had made me, and I had to set it aside to look at the screen.

“Mrs. Zuelch?” We had been going back and forth like that for hours. He would look someone in the area up and I would look at the page for about ten seconds and hand it back to him. This time, he was across the room. “She looks like she could kill me.”

“She's not going to, Gavin. She's a fucking therapist.” He held up two different game cases in front of his face, not looking back at me. “Her job is to do the exact opposite, actually.”

“I don't know...” I trailed off. Michael's shoulders slumped and I heard him let out a sigh as he lowered both games.

“Gavin?” He asked as he turned part way around to look at me. “Are you even trying?”

“I am, Michael!” I answered quickly. I didn't want to let him know that I had little interest in finding a therapist. I'd promised him the night with his parents that I'd go back, no matter what and he made me swear that I'd start looking as soon as possible. As soon as I started looking, I'd been hit with a rush of how awful my mandated therapy was and all desire had left my body.

“I really don't think you are. I don't want to force you but I don't want to have another fucking shit storm like the other night.”

“I know, Michael.” He gave me a glare that I could tell was half hearted and returned to picking out a video game. I looked back to the page. There was a large blown up picture of a blonde woman with her arms crossed. She was wearing a pant suit and minimal makeup. She looked strong and stern but also nice and I couldn't place my finger on what made her stick out from the hundreds of other people I'd looked at that day. It wasn't until I lifted my eyes from the screen and looked to Michael again that I decided I would call. I took out my phone and punched in the number and as soon as I started talking, Michael turned to face me with a questioning glance, then a smile that he tried to hide from me.

Mrs. Zuelch turned out to be a very nice woman, but I was right about her being stern. The first day I went, she convinced me to spill every time that I had tried to commit suicide, which didn't seem all that hard since I'd met Michael. She knew my entire life story by the fourth visit I made. I visited 3 times a week and the price didn't hit me as hard as I thought it would. There was one thing about me that I kept to myself, though. My friendship with Michael. At least, I tried to.

“So,” She started as soon as I'd walked into her office. “Tell me about this 'Michael' boy that you're always talking about.”

I laughed and smiled at her. “Aren't you going to let me sit down first?” I walked over to the chair and she smiled back at me. Taking my seat she offered me a bottled water which I politely declined.

“Well,” She started, sitting back in her own chair. “I just wanted to get the thought out, because, usually, you change the subject when it comes to him.”

Of course I would always change the subject when it came to him. He was my best friend but I felt like so much of him was uncharted territory. I wasn't sure how I felt and when I realized that's where I could start with Mrs. Zuelch, I looked up to her staring at me expectantly.

I cleared my throat and prepared to begin. “Michael is my best friend, no question. Like I said before, he's saved my life. He came and got me when I was gonna jump off the bridge. He took me to the hospital when I almost bled out. He let me stay with him when my power was shut off.”

“How long did you stay with him?” she interrupted.

“About a month, maybe a little longer. He's really nice and I'd do anything for him if I was able to. He's one of the reasons I want to get better.”

“How does his support make you feel?”

I hated the typical therapist questions, but with Mrs. Zuelch, I realized that the questions they ask are always for a reason and if I don't answer fully, they wouldn't help me. “It makes me feel not so alone, I guess. Like someone is always looking after me. It helps me deal with my empty apartment, just knowing that he's there and he cares about me.”

“And you care about him, obviously.”

“Oh, Absolutely. I don't think I've cared for another human being this much in my life. Well, besides my parents, but even then, I don't have many memories of my parents when I was depressed. I really don't know what I'd do without him.”

All the while I was talking, she was scribbling something on her notepad. “What's your favorite thing about him?” She went on, not looking up from what she was writing.

“Well,” I thought about it for a moment before answering. “Maybe his smile? He's got this light about him when he smiles. It's like his entire face lights up.” She looked up from her notepad and paused writing. I tried to look away from her and go on but I couldn't help but feel that I should have stopped talking. “He has these dimples in his cheeks that I really like.”

“I see,” She said as I watched her out of the corner of my eye raise a pencil to her mouth to chew slightly on the eraser. “Gavin?”

“Yes?” I turned my full attention to her and pulled my feet up onto the chair so my knees were level with my chin.

“Have you ever thought about Michael as more than a friend?”

The question made my heart skip a beat. I didn't want to talk about that with anyone let alone my therapist but maybe she could actually help me figure out what was going on in my head. I felt my cheeks warm up and I knew I was blushing so I pushed my face up against my knees. “I-I... I don't know how I feel.”

“Take it from previous experiences.”

“I don't really have any previous experiences with that kind of thing though.”

“Well,” She leaned forward and crossed her legs. “Have you ever felt this way towards any of your other friends?”

“Not really, but I've never had a friend like Michael. I'm also not gay.”

“I'm not saying that you are, I'm just trying to let you explore the possibilities. Normally when people tell me what their favorite thing about their best friend is, they don't give me physical traits.”

I swallowed hard and avoided making eye contact with her. “I may not be gay, but he is.”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow and continued her writing. “How does that make you feel, having your best friend be gay?”

“It doesn't really affect me. He's just another person to me. It's not some huge deal that he prefers knob to vag and it's not much of by business. He likes what he likes and that's that.”

“Do you think the reason you're not sure how you feel about him is because he's gay?”

“I don't think so. I'm just confused because I'm confused. I don't know what I like and I think that's the reason. I'm just not entirely sure what I'm interested in because I've never been interested in anyone like that. And it isn't like he's come on to me or anything.... well,” I paused thinking of the night Michael stayed at my apartment. My hesitation caused her to look up again. “Never mind.”

“No, go on, Gavin. Remember, no incomplete thoughts. If you want to say something you should say it.”

I exhaled preparing how I should start. “Well, the night Michael drove me home from the bridge was also the night that my heat and power were shut off. He stayed in my bed and when we woke up, he was cuddled up to me and had a... a boner.”

“Well, that happens to a lot of men in the morning. It's not necessarily coming on to you-”

“But he left so quickly after that. He was so embarrassed and didn't know what to think. And then later that day at Game Stop I was filling out paperwork and he called me and I ended up drawing little hearts on the back of my papers without noticing and I accidentally called him cute.” I covered my hands with my face and threw my head backwards. “I haven't been able to get him out of my head. I think about him all the time. I've had dirty dreams that I've been ignoring, but I'm straight. There's no way that I could like him, is there?”

“Well, it's something to think about, Gavin. It certainly sounds like there might be something more than just friendship there.”

I rubbed the palms of my hands into my eyes. “What should I do?”

“I want you to think about it. And I mean really think about it. It's really all up to you to decide what you like.”

The rest of the hour I had with her went smoothly as it always did. I left after hugging her good bye and setting up another date and time. I was afraid to go home and think about what she'd told me to so instead I called Michael and we went out to a late dinner.


	24. Still

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo finally (tumblr post: http://poohsoup.tumblr.com/post/72063965399/becoming-free-24-27-still)

 The next day at work, Barbara was working cash register while I stocked the shelves. It was the first day of November and we were busy with a monthly restock as well as getting ready for the release of the new Call of Duty game that would come out the following Tuesday on the fifth. I had noticed in the time that I'd worked at Game Stop that the store was extremely empty the week before a big release. The lack of customers made it very easy to talk to each other from across the store.

“So, how's your week been?” Barbara started, standing in front of the counter and leaning backwards onto it, watching me as I lugged around a cardboard box full of games.

“It's been pretty good so far,” I answered her. I was facing away from her at the time and my smile was hidden from her but I couldn't help but feel like she knew I was grinning anyway.

“What's got you in such a good mood?” She laughed. “I haven't seen you smile voluntarily since...” She paused, most likely stroking her chin with her hand as she thought. “Well, ever.”

“I'm just happy,” I answered her finally turning around to meet her eyes. Her smile mirrored mine. “I've had a really good week.”

“Oh yeah?” She teased and flipped some of her hair over her shoulder. “Tell me about your week, then.”

“Well,” I began, thinking back past that week. “I'll have you know I found a therapist.”

The look on her face was a mix of shock and joy. “You're finally going back to therapy?”

“Yeah,” I turned back to the shelves and continued to place the games in alphabetical order on to the shelves. “She's really nice too.”

“Gavin, that's awesome to hear. What made you go back?”  
I blushed, thinking about Michael's confrontational speech and how torn up he was about wanting me to get better. The blush was more for the thought of Michael, but I couldn't help but let my mind drift to that night. “It was Michael's idea.”

“Of course it was,” She joked. “You'd listen to anything Michael said.” The way she said his name was in a mockery of my accent with an 'oo' sound as the last syllable.

“What are you on about?” I asked her with a laugh in my voice.

“You're totally in love with the guy!” I turned to face her in time to see her fold her arms over her chest. She raised her eyebrows at me, expecting an answer.

Instead of denying her accusation, I simply spun around to the shelves again, afraid that the red in my cheeks would give me away. I think the silence did the job anyway.

“Oh my god you really do don't you?” She said flatly in a low voice as if she couldn't believe it.

“I'm not in love with him!” My voice went up an octave.

“But you're not denying that you have a thing for him.”

I let out a sigh and slumped my shoulders in defeat. “I don't know, I probably do?” I put the last of the Xbox games on the shelf and knew I had to move on to the Play Station games before I could take my break.

“I didn't know you were gay.”

“I'm not gay!” I let the thought sit for a bit. “Well, at least I don't think I am. I could be.”

“Customers.” Shortly after she said it, I heard the bell for the front door open. I looked over to see two teenaged girls walking in, which meant that I had to ask them if they needed anything. Barbara and I had an agreement when we worked together that she would get to talk to any and all cute guys that walked in as well as some middle-aged men, and I would get the rest.

“Hello, ladies!” I greeted both of them and they looked my way. I was still standing at the shelf on the wall to the right when entering the store and I dared not move. “Is there anything I could help you with today?” I turned to fully face them.

“N-no,” one of the girls squeaked out as the other girl blushed and hid her face. “We're fine.”

“Alright,” I smiled at them and crossed the room to Barbara. “If you need help just ask one of us.”

Barbara was now standing behind the counter. I leaned over it, resting my elbows on the hard top.

“Why don't you just ask him out?” She asked me in a hushed voice.

I couldn't think of a response fast enough and I ended up choking on my spit. She reached over the counter and patted my shoulder until I was done, silently laughing to herself the whole time. “I don't think you understand that I can absolutely not do that,” I was finally able to get out.

“And why not?” She asked with a grin on her face.

“Because I'm an unstable mess and Michael deserves better.”

“Customer.”

“They can help themselves,” I say in response to the bell at the door. I knew the girls were still there because I could hear them talk amongst themselves across the store. The person entering was indeed a new customer. “Listen,” I bring Barbara's eyes back to me. “I really like Michael. I was thinking about it all last night after I got home from having dinner with him and, well, I don't know what to do. I need your help with this.”

“Well, I'm gonna help you right now by telling you to shut up.” She whispered it as I heard a presence behind me and I figured it was the customer and they had walked to the counter.

Before I even turned around, I started greeting them. “Hello,” I closed my eyes and turned. “Is there anything I could help you find?”

When I opened my eyes, I was shocked to see Michael standing in front of my with a sarcastic irritation present on his face. I nearly fell backwards and I had to use the counter to catch myself. The teenagers laughed at me quietly and left just as quickly as Michael had snuck up on me.

“You're such a fucking idiot,” He smiled and grabbed my hand, steadying me on my feet.

“Only half the time,” Barbara chimed in and ruffled a hand through my hair.

“You're right. The other half he's just an idiot.” Michael looked me in the eyes and pushed my shoulder. “Are you ready to go to lunch?”

“I've got to finish the Play Station section before I can take my break.”

“I've got you covered,” Barbara said as she left the counter and walked over the the box full of games on the floor. “It's not like we're busy, anyway.”

“Thanks, Barb,” Michael said as he pulled me by the hand out the door. On my way out I gave one last look at Barbara and she was giving me a thumbs up and silently saying “go for it.” I knew there was no way that I could.


	25. Easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's coming to an end tho (tumblr post: http://poohsoup.tumblr.com/post/72064244156/becoming-free-25-27-easy)

 We sat across from each other at Taco Bell which had become a popular place to go on lunch breaks at Game Stop since it was just a short jog through the parking lot that the buildings shared. I wasn't a fan of eating it too often because it usually gave me immense heartburn if I consumed it more that two days in a row which, unfortunately, happened more often than not due to the lack of other restaurants in walking distance. The days that Michael could join me for lunch, we would go somewhere that we could drive to quickly, but that day he only had an hour between classes. He'd already spent about ten minutes driving to Game Stop through college lunch time traffic and would still have to drive back, so he didn't want to go very far and I settled for Taco Bell.

He looked at me as he stuffed his mouth full of food. I could tell he was watching me play around with the burrito I ordered. I was poking it with one of the black plastic forks the fast food restaurant offered.

“What's wrong?” He asked through a large bite.

“Nothing,” I answered cheerfully. He didn't look like he believed me when I looked so I decided I would go on. “Michael, I just want to tell you something.”

“Oh really?” He chuckled and took another bite.

My heart was racing in my chest. I didn't want to do what Barb had said. I wasn't ready and Michael would probably have turned me down. I had already started and I couldn't think of anything fast enough. I ended up staring at my tray of food wide-eyed until Michael called out my name.

“Gavin, I don't think the food can talk for you.”

“Right,” I rubbed the back of my neck and tilted my head to the side. “Well,” I started. “I just want you to know you're my best friend.” He made a sound that sounded like approval. “And you're different than Lindsay and Barbara. You're always-”

“Hold that thought,” he stood up from where he was sitting. “These tacos aren't sitting right.”

“U-Uh, okay.” The sentence was lost as he ran off toward the bathroom. I let out a sigh. I was so close to saying something and I didn't think I would be able to when he returned. I was completely hopeless.

I felt the table rumble under my arms that were crossed in front of me and saw that Michael's phone was going off. Without thinking, I picked it up.

“Hello?” I asked.

“Michael?” The voice asked and I immediately recognized it as Miles.

“Uh,” I went on, smacking myself in the face. “No, sorry. Michael's in the-”

“Oh. Gavin.”

“Yeah, sorry. I saw his phone going off and I just answered it.”

“Not a problem,” he said, although his tone sounded an awful lot like it was a problem. “Could you just tell Michael that if he still wanted to see a movie tonight, my plans freed up.”

I don't know why exactly what he said stung so much, but the thought of Miles and Michael together again hurt more than I could have ever predicted. “Yeah,” I went on, regretting that I'd even gone to lunch. “I can pass on the message.”

“Thanks for that, you're great.”

“Yeah. Bye Miles.”

“Bye.”

With that, the line went silent and Michael returned as I was taking the phone away from my ear.

“Who was that?” He asked with genuine curiosity.

“That was Miles.” Michael's brows scrunched together. “He wanted to tell you that his plans are clear for this evening and needs to know if you still wanted to see a movie.”

Michael exhaled deeply. “I'm sorry, Gavin. I should have told you that I was trying to work things out with him.”

“After he punched you in the face and nearly knocked me unconscious?” I could tell that my voice was confrontational but I couldn't get myself to stop.

“He's a really good guy. I know that he seems like a jack ass, but he's trying.”

I stood up, disregarding my meal and started to walk towards the door. Michael soon followed and as we entered the parking lot, put a hand on my shoulder to turn me around.

“What the hell is wrong?”

“I can not even begin to tell you how absolutely idiotic you're being!” I shouted, turning back around and heading for Game Stop.

“Could you at least talk to me about it!” He jogged in front of me, blocking my path.

I stopped and glared at him. “Sure, I'll talk about it. You're really just going to let him stroll back into your life after that night at the bar?”

“It's been nearly two months!” He shouted. “He's working out his issues just like you are. A lot can change in two months.”

“At least one of my problems isn't being an abusive prick!”

“How is what you do to yourself any better than what he did?”

“I'm not hurting anyone else!”

“You hurt _me_ , Gavin!” His face was serious and I was reminded of the night that he cried over me. “If you think I don't care about you, then you're fucking stupid and every time you do that shit to yourself or talk about killing yourself or hurting yourself it hurts me. More than you could believe! I'd rather take a fist in the face than feel the heart ache I get when you talk like that.”

“I don't even do it that much now that I'm in therapy!”

“Every time you've spent the night at my house since you've started. Every single time I see you, there's a mention of it! You talk in your sleep, Gavin.” He paused to catch his breath and I had nothing to say. “I've been trying to fix you since day one. I've tried the very best I could. Do you remember the stupid bedtime story I told you about Princess Gavino? Because I do and I still mean it one hundred percent. I've tried so hard to fix you but I can't fix you until you try and fix yourself.”

I was crying at this point, and it wasn't because I was touched by Michael's spout. I wiped at my eyes and winced at the pain in my chest and Michael's face lightened and I could tell he was about to move in to hug me as if the entire situation was suddenly over because I had started crying. I stepped away from him and to the side, preparing to move around him. His expression dropped to a confused look as he lowered his arms slowly to his sides.

“I-I'm n-not broken,” I said and started walking off towards Game Stop.

“Gavin!” he called after me, not daring to come after me. I could tell that he knew that he had messed up. “Gavin, please. I didn't mean it like that.”

I ignored him the entire way to Game Stop and when I walked in, I was greeted by a smiling Barb.

“What's wrong?” She asked, smile turning to frown quickly as she followed me to the back room.

“I need to go home,” I told her, gathering my coat from the back of one of the folding chairs. “I can't work like this.”

“Okay,” she said quietly, accepting that I was leaving. “I'll clock you out then. I'll text you your schedule when Ray comes in tonight.”

“Okay,” I said as I walked out the door. I was lucky that Michael had already left and I was able to walk to the bus stop without having to deal with him.


	26. Lucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! I haven't released three chapters in a night since my first fic this is astonishing! These chapters have been rough, I know, and this one doesn't make it any better but it's gonna end so sweetly I promise. I've been getting questions on tumblr all night about playing with feelings and it's been really fun so enjoy this one, the last one will be out tomorrow! (tumblr post: http://poohsoup.tumblr.com/post/72072238145/becoming-free-26-27-lucky)

 The next few weeks started out difficult. Michael and I didn't talk. He tried to call me, but I couldn't bring myself to answer the phone after what he'd said to me. He contacted Lindsay and Barbara and they came to check up on me every couple of days. At first they would try and tell me about how Michael is doing and I never let them finish their sentences. They just enjoyed my company and for the most part, I wasn't alone. They most likely reported my condition back to Michael, but I didn't mind for the most part.

I started going to therapy more often. I would pay for longer time slots and I felt like Mrs. Zuelch was a little sick of me though she assured me she wasn't. I was positive she would only care if I weren't able to make my payments. My parents refused to stop sending me money and I figured that I should put it to good use since I wasn't going out to eat all the time or pay for buses to the other side of town. I even upgraded Egg's cat food and she seemed to be beyond thrilled.

Even after I'd reclaimed my apartment and payed off my bills, I didn't like to sleep in my own bed. When I went home that day, that's the first thing I did. I fell right into the bed and slept until the next morning and it was more than needed. I continued to use my bed over the couch, only sleeping there when I accidentally would fall asleep in front of the television.

I went about work the way I always did. Barbara had told Ray about what had happened and I think both of them were prepared for me to be very upset or call off work. I acted the same as I would have otherwise like nothing had ever happened and Barbara found it to be rather unsettling.

“I mean, are you okay?” She asked me while no one else was around. “Ever since you told me what happened you've been acting-”

“The same?” I cut her off. “I'm fine, Barbara. I'm over it.”

“Whatever you say.”

And the truth was that I _was_ over it. After I had slept off the argument, it was almost as if nothing had happened. I think that deep down, I was prepared for the let down. That was the only way that I could explain it to myself. I should have known that Michael would end up going back to Miles and everything would be that way. I shouldn't have cared, but I didn't want to see him hurt. It was so confusing for me to actually care about another human being as much as I did Michael. I also had never cared so little about someone before. If he wanted to go off and get punched in the face, then so be it.

I started to improve the more I went to therapy. Mrs. Zuelch really helped me with my depression when it was the only thing I could focus on. She gave me a chart to follow for steps to recovery. Everything seemed really simple and stupid until the first time I needed to use it. It was a color coated letter chart. I started reading down it when I'd almost had a break down.

“A is asking for help, B is for bravery, C is for choosing life, D is for dawn after darkness.” I stopped on D, thinking of how much better things were going to be after I was better and it helped me to calm down and put my blade away. I didn't expect the chart to work at all but after that day, I kept it hanging on my fridge.

Michael stopped calling after the fifth week. His calls went from a couple a day to one every few days to none at all a lot quicker than I thought they would. I couldn't bring myself to pick them up, seeing how well I was doing with my recovery without him. I was confident I could succeed without him, even though the whole process would have never began if not for him. He seemed like such an insignificant part of my life after I'd blocked him out. Little did I know, I was repressing my emotions towards him.

I was doing great in my recovery process until the night I went out to the bar with Barbara. It wasn't to the same place where I'd met Michael, but a bar much further across town. It was crowded and cramped and I was drinking much more than I should have. There was a girl that kept buying me shots and I kept accepting them and dancing with her and as the night went on I got more and more drunk. She tried to take me home and I would have gone if Barbara hadn't stopped me. I felt the girl would have been extremely disappointed to learn once we got to her place that I was a virgin that couldn't get it up so maybe it was for the best.

Barbara dropped me off at my apartment and stayed with me until I started to sober up, and by sober up, I mean until I was coherent enough to not piss my pants. When she left, I sat on the couch with my head tilted up, staring at the ceiling.

I kept thinking to myself, “I really want to die.” I started to have a conversation with myself without realizing it.

“It wouldn't be so bad. Just like old times.”

“Yeah I agree. It would be so easy to disappear.”

“Didn't you say it would be peaceful?”

“I hope it is.”

“What made you change your mind? You were so sure it would be before.”

I chuckled, a smile forming on my lips. “Michael.”

“What's so great about him?”

“He's perfect.”

I couldn't help but chase away the smile with something else. My chest felt heavy and my cheeks were wet. _Was I crying?_ I realized then how alone I was. I wanted to go home with the girl at the bar because I didn't want to be alone but I didn't protest when Barbara took me home. Then she had stayed and I was happy that she was looking after me and I wanted her to stay but I didn't stop her when she walked out the door. It took me a few minutes before I realized that I wasn't just alone, I missed Michael.

I got up to look in the mirror and before I could even catch my reflection, I was grabbing the box cutter I had stashed in my medicine cabinet. I didn't know what I was doing until I was bleeding, retracing the word on my forearm. I couldn't stop myself and by the time I could move my hand to drop the blade, I'd completely gone over the scaring.

“Why am I such an idiot?” I asked to no one in particular. I was shaking, reaching for my phone with a bloody hand. Both were covered with the red liquid, but I wasn't feeling light headed in the slightest.

“Hello?” A voice from the phone said quietly. I looked down at the blood smeared screen and brought it to my ear. “Gavin? Are you there?”

“Hello?” I asked back, confused on how I'd gotten into a call.

“Hey, what's going on?” The voice sounded so familiar but I couldn't place it, most likely due to the alcohol.

“Uh... I'm not sure.”

“Are you drunk? Are you okay?”

“I may be drunk a bit. I'm not okay though.”

“Do you need me to come get you?”

“I'm sorry, I'm really drunk. Who did I call?”

“Gavin,” The voice sounded full of concern. “It's Michael.”

“M-Michael?” My voice choked up. Hearing his voice was the last thing I expected to want.

“It's okay, dude. Where are you?”

“We haven't talked in over a month, Michael.”

“I know, you haven't answered my calls.”

“It's all my fault.”

“It's not your fault.”

“Yes it is and now I'm gonna die and it's all my fault.”

“What?”

“I'm stupid, Michael. I'm so, so stupid.”

“Where are you? Please, just focus and tell me where you are.”

I looked around my bathroom from my knees as if I needed to check to make sure I was still at home. I didn't remember dropping to the floor but I must have during the call. “I'm at my apartment. Michael, I'm so sorry. I'm so stupid.”

“I'll be there soon, Gav. Don't leave and just try to stay calm.”

The line went dead and I was alone again.


	27. Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS IT IT'S THE FINAL COUNTDOWN I HOPE THIS LIVED UP TO ALL OF YOUR EXPECTATIONS AND I HOPE TO CONTINUE WRITING FOR YOU IN THE FUTURE!! (tumblr post: http://poohsoup.tumblr.com/post/72187551145/becoming-free-27-27-free)

 I leaned on the tub, waiting to die. The blood was running down my arm and hand until it dripped off the very tips of my fingers into the bottom of shower pan. I kept my eyes fixed on it, watching it slowly make it's way to the drain.

 _This was it_ , I thought. _These are the last moments of my life._ I was doing so well then all of a sudden all my emotions flooded back to me. I'd failed and there was no hope for me.

I didn't bother to wrap the wound or try and stop the bleeding. The truth was that I still wanted to die. Therapy just gave me the courage to overcome it. I didn't have a single thing in my life worth living for. Everything around me could easily be taken care of by someone else and they would probably have done it ten times better. All my friends were great, but it would be easier if I left. I was nothing but a burden on them. And I was especially a burden on Michael.

Pretty much ever since I met him, I'd been nothing but a giant pain. The night we met was the reason that he and his boyfriend had broken up. If I wouldn't have started to hang out with Michael, he would have never been punched. There wouldn't have been blood in his fridge and Miles never would have known. Michael would have never had to waste gas to come get me all the times I needed someone. He wouldn't have had to worry about me.

I think that was the most heartbreaking thing. He cared about me enough to worry about me, even though I'd done nothing but be a burden on him. He was even driving over to my apartment to try and save me. All he would see is my last moments of life. I kept wishing that I never called him, but unfortunately I acted without thinking, or knowing really.

It was strange, actually, that I hadn't passed out. I was light headed, sure, but when I first cut my arm, I'd felt the effects almost instantly. I kept thinking that maybe I'd done something wrong but when I tried to move, I felt weak and was reassured that everything was going downhill for me and it was exactly the way I wanted it.

I rested my head on the curb of the tub and heard the sound of knocking at the door. It was more like pounding and I could tell that it was Michael, not because he was the only one that I expected, but because of the way that he slammed his fist into the door. Only Michael would pound that way. It was confirmed when I heard him start to shout.

“Gavin? Open the door,” He called. He sounded like he was scared and he probably was. I couldn't get up to let him in, nor did I want to. I couldn't bear the thought of him seeing me like that. His calls became more and more frantic every second that I wasn't opening the door. There wasn't anyone in the apartments on my floor. My building was relatively small and most of the occupants were on the fourth and third floors. The second floor had six apartments and mine was the only one that was occupied. There wouldn't be anyone coming out to see what he was screaming about. The only security camera was located by the elevators and I was unaware if he knew that or not when he began to kick down my door. I heard one loud thump and then another accompanied by the splitting of wood. The last one brought down the door with a shattering crash. He closed it behind him, meaning that he didn't knock it off it's hinges, but only broke the frame.

“Gavin?” He called out again. I could tell he was crying. His footsteps grew louder and louder until I was certain he was in the bathroom. “Gavin, Jesus Christ,” He said under his breath in a high pitch.

I felt myself being lifted off the ground. He turned me around so that his face went into my neck and he started sobbing even harder than he already was. It occurred to me then that he might have thought I was dead. I lifted my arms weakly and strung them around his neck, shoving my face into his hair. I was overwhelmed by the scent of him and I tried to take as much of him in as I could. I heard him gasp and then mumble, “Fucking Christ, you're alive.”

He lifted both of us up and he slung me into his arms, bridal style – that seemed to be his go to way of transporting me – and carried me to the dining room table. Pulling out a chair he sat me down and put a hand on my cheek. His face was extraordinarily close to mine and I couldn't seem to focus on it. I couldn't tell if it was because I was light headed still or because he was so close.

“Fuck,” He muttered, looking down. “You're still bleeding.” He sat my arm up on the table and walked away to presumably get something to wrap it in. “Don't move it,” He scolded me. I didn't think I could move it if I tried. I looked down, focusing my eyes finally. My entire arm was red, but it didn't appear to be bleeding as badly as when I was in the bathroom hanging it over the side of the tub. I tried squeezing my hand into a fist and was able to get some good movement out of my fingers before Michael returned. He sat down beside me with disinfectant, cotton balls, and gauze and immediately starting cleaning out the cuts. I flinched when the sting finally caught up to me.

“Baby,” He tried to laugh between his gasping breaths. He was still trying to stop himself from crying.

I tried to manage a smile when I looked up at him. “It stings quite a bit, you sausage.”

He chuckled, nearly choking. “It wouldn't sting if you'd have just called me before it got to this point.”

“I'm sorry, Michael.” The smile had disappeared from my face, remembering the burden that I put on him.

“Don't say your sorry,” He said mid-swab. He looked up at me from over his glasses. I noticed that he looked extremely tired. The circles under his eyes were darker than mine were normally. “I'm the one that should be sorry.”

“Why?” I asked him, puzzled.

“Because I shouldn't have said what I said.”

“Michael,” I sighed. I lifted my free arm up so my hand was resting on his wrist. He paused momentarily in his work, then continued as I did. “That was over a month ago. It's okay.”

“Is it, though?” he put away the disinfectant and brought out the gauze. Lifting up my arm, he started to wrap it. “I said something that hurt you and best friends aren't supposed to hurt each other.”

“It hurt at the time, but thinking about it now, my reaction seems childish. I knew what you meant.” I was still so dizzy and light headed. All I wanted to do was be dead, but it looked like Michael wasn't about to let me be.

“I really am sorry. You should know that.”

I made a sound of approval with the back of my throat and watched him twirl the gauze carefully around my arm. A few moments of silence passed before he spoke up again.

“You know this wouldn't have killed you, right?”

“What?” I asked with a confused tone.

“Gavin,” He smiled at me as he taped down the last of the gauze. “These cuts are nearly surface wounds. They barely broke through your skin. You probably would have passed out since you had it in the tub like you did. I thought they were deeper when I walked in and first saw them but they definitely aren't.”

“Oh,” I raised my eyebrows. After a bit I exhaled. “I still messed up. All my progress is gone now.”

“That's not true.”

“Yes it is. I still wanted to kill myself after all of this time and I tried-”

“Gavin, this shit takes time. You're not just going to be magically better after a month of therapy. It's gonna be hard and there are gonna be trying periods where you'll have to test your own will power. It's totally fine. I'm sure your therapist has told you shit like this.”

“She has, but I still relapsed and I feel awful.”

“It's okay to relapse!” He put down my arm having finished wrapping it. “It's a normal thing that plenty of people have gone through, I'm sure.”

“Do you think so?”

“I know so.”

I sighed and let him have his victory. I smiled at him with a closed mouth and heavy eyes. “Thank you for coming, Michael.”

“Not a problem. I wouldn't be much of a friend if I didn't come.”

“Actually, I wanted to talk about that.” There it was. The perfect chance to segue into the conversation I wanted to have with him the day Barbara had suggested doing it.

“Talk about what?” He asked with a confused look on his face.

I stood up and remembered how dizzy I was. Michael stood up with me, holding me steady when he realized I was wobbling. “I want to lay down first, I'm dizzy.”

“Okay. Do you want to go to the couch?

“Yeah,” I answered him. He put a hand around my waist and led me to the couch, being careful not to make me trip. When we got there, he dropped down before me and I set myself down easily, falling into him. He was leaning in the corner while I placed my head on his chest and put my feet up. I was a little uncomfortable with the physical contact and I could tell that Michael was a little bit shocked by it by the way his body tensed up and slowly relaxed. He placed an arm over my shoulder and let his hand rest on my chest. I wanted to take all of him in and get used to that feeling

“So?” He asked, trying to get me to go on.

“I wanted to talk about our friendship.”

“Oh.” He shifted a bit underneath me, seeming to be bothered at the mention of friendship.

“Michael, you're an amazing guy,” I started. My heart was pounding in my chest and I felt like I was going to explode before I was able to get the words out. “I don't know where I would be without you-”

“Probably dead,” He interjected.

“And at this current moment, I'm glad that I'm not. My head is a little more clear and I think I know that I don't want to die quite yet. My head always seems to be a little more clear when you're around-”

“Well,” He stopped me again, laughing. “You _are_ a walking stick of dumb.”

“Would you let me finish,” I chuckled at his comments. Normally I would have felt awful about what he'd said but I couldn't take it seriously because it came out of _his_ mouth. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that before our fight happened, I was thinking a lot about us and our friendship and how I felt about you. My therapist suggested giving it a good thought and so did Barbara. Barbara was really pushy about it, actually, and it made me a little shaky and iffy to think about it but deep down I know what I was thinking was what I wanted. It just took me a really long time to figure out what I wanted.” I was babbling and I knew I had to get to the point before he lost interest. “And I think what I want is you, Michael.” I paused for a moment to wait for a reaction and I didn't receive one. I looked off at the far wall and grabbed his hand that was still placed on my chest. I started rubbing my fingers up and down it, my arm still sore from the cuts. “I was just thinking that if you aren't seeing Miles and if I'm not too messed up to date, then I'd be willing to give it a shot. I don't know how good I'd be in a relationship but-” I was cut off by Michael leaning down over me and pressing his lips against mine. They were just as soft as I imagined them to be and it made my head spin even more than it already was from the alcohol and the blood loss. I realized I wasn't kissing back and then I realized that I had no idea how to kiss. I tried my best to reciprocate but he just pulled away and chuckled, his face lingering near mine. My cheeks went red with embarrassment.

“You'll have to work on your kisses,” He mumbled, grabbing my hand in his. “I never called Miles back after that day.”

“You didn't?” I asked him. My heart was beating so fast. “Why not?”

“Why do you think I broke up with him in the first place? Why do you think he doesn't like you?”

“Wait, you broke up with him because of me?”

“I had a crush on you and I felt guilty. I couldn't bear to hurt him and you were so much better.”

“But you didn't know that we'd end up like this...” I was so confused by his comment.

“A guy can hope, right?” He pulled away, and I sat up to face him. “I've liked you since the day I met you.”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Looking back, I was so stupid not to have noticed. The Princess Gavino speech in itself was a giant hint and that was the first night we'd hung out. “R-really?”

“Of course.” He still had his hand in mine and was rubbing a thumb over it. “So, we're doing this then?”

“Only if you want to.”

“I do want to.”

“Even with my depression and stupidity?”

“It's an ongoing thing, Gavin.” He moved in and hid his face in my neck, leaning his head on my shoulder. “We'll have to work on it together.”

I smiled and rested my head on top of his. Maybe I wasn't as much of a burden as I thought I was.


End file.
